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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



BEN'S ISABELLA 



A NARRATIVE POEM IN THIRTEEN CANTOS 



BY 



JOSEPHINE TYLER 








BUFFALO 
CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 

1895 



7&3,/ 






Copyright, 1895, 
By JOSEPHINE TYLER. 



Printed by 
CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 

Buffalo, N. Y. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CANTO I. 

Off Plymouth Coast 9 

CANTO II. 
Love's Ideal 20 

CANTO III. 
The Ball 24 

CANTO IV. 
Art Dreams. A Dream Dispelled 30 

CANTO V. 
Ben 44 

CANTO VI. 
Empires in the Sky 62 

CANTO VII. 
A Visit to the Inventor's Home 67 

CANTO VIII. 
Ben Concludes the Lyrics of Tudor, John and Bella 78 

CANTO IX. 
After the Mists 97 



vi CONTENTS. 

CANTO X. 

Dona and Isabella by the Lake 101 

CANTO XL 
After Five Years. Seeking Soul-Gems. James Dun- 
bar's Story. Crcesus and Susan. Victor's Work. 
About to Revisit Ben 113 

CANTO XII. 
Feeding the Lambs • • • • I2 8 

CANTO XIII. 
A Fair Vision. A Cloud-Burst. Fidelity 149 



BEN'S ISABELLA 



BEN'S ISABELLA. 



CANTO I. 



OFF PLYMOUTH COAST. 

RIDING in solitude through birchen woods, 
Whose turf moss-muffled and o'erstrewn with 
leaves, 
Noiseless received the steps of my brown steed, 
I came upon a glade, and saw revealed 
A sea-view splendid with the setting sun. 
Clouds shining like Heaven's pavement, in sky depths 
Floated above a wide breeze-fretted bay 
Of the Atlantic, where the waves were lone, 
Save that a merchant barque with sails full set, 
Far to the east was standing out to sea. 

Some paces next along the beach I rode, 

Tuning my meditations to the chant 

Of waves that tabored 'gainst a neighboring crag, 



io BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Then drew the rein, that in my happy mood 

I might reposefully absorb the scene — 

Sky, ocean, tide-dashed shore, all glory bathed. 

My horse, too, conscious of that glory's spell, 

Turned shoreward his arched neck, and seemed to gaze 

With wonder beaming from his burnished eye. 

But while I rested rapt and motionless, 
I marked a sudden tremor of his frame, 
His ear erect, and nostril widely strained ; 
Till at a changed direction of his head, 
I caught a vision thrilling as death's moan. 

Against a granite boulder huge and gray, 

Not twenty footsteps off, a maiden leaned, 

Tall and with beauty dowered and soulful charms. 

Poised in unconscious natural grace she stood, 

With stature rounded to the mold of health ; 

Yet her broad brow lit by the sunset glow 

Was drawn with pain ; her hands in grief's tense clasp 

Were raised and wrung ; her dark impassioned eyes, 

Wildly intense, were fixed on the fair ship 

Sailing the restless waters, outward bound. 

A sudden noise! perchance from fluttering wing 
Of sea-gull hovering 'neath the jutting crag — 



OFF PLYMOUTH COAST. . id 

The maiden startled loosed her close-clenched hands, 
An instant drooped her head, with listening mien, 
Then noting not my presence, with quick step 
Glided to the near forest, and was gone. 

Thus in an hour of peace, my consciousness 
Saw flitting like a veiled and guarded nun 
Before its gaze, a proud soul's hidden woe, 
And just a breath had served to rend its veil. 

Late from the darkening shore my steed and I 
Diverging o'er a smooth, well-beaten road 
Of Plymouth County famed from pilgrim feet, 
Dashed by a score of scattered cottage lights, 
And sought refreshment at a wayside inn. 
Vainly we sought, the hostelry was barred. 
Where spend the night ? 

A villager who passed, 
A sturdy man of cordial nature, asked 
My quest, and bade me sojourn at his home — 
A cottage near. His wife, a matron kind 
And Sensible, performed a hostess' part, 
Spreading with willing hands an evening meal, 
While the good husband to his stable led 
My faithful horse, who whinnied at my call 



12 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

From the near cottage-window, where I sat 
Waiting the supper , with sharp appetite. 

When all was ready, at their cozy board 
I supped with man and matron, as with friends. 
Freely we interchanged our talk, told tales 
Of travels past, and ventured to propound 
Some simple questions, such as "Rode you far 
To-day, sir?" and on my part, " Have you none 
To share this home-life with you ? " 

To this last 
'Twas answered, " Our niece only. She retired 
Just ere you came, sir, being overtired 
From a long ramble. She's a rare good girl. 
'Tis pity you go hence at earliest morn, 
And may not see her comely face, or hear 
Her voice in song." 

My sleep that night was sound 
Beneath the roof-tree of my stranger host ; 
But as the day dawned, waking I lived o'er 
My vision of the maiden and the ship. 
Again I saw her gazing o'er the sea, 
Again I saw her shrink within the wood. 



OFF PL YMO UTH COAST. 1 3 

But hark! a voice nearby subdued and sweet 
Came floating to my chamber. Thus it sang : 

The sails of his ship have faded 

Far in the eastern sky, 
I have yearned o'er those mocking waters, 

Without a tear or a sigh; 
For I could not weep, if I willed it, 

My heart is stilled in woe, 
And pride that is folded round it 

Has chilled my pulse, like snow. 

Love's dread and bitter sorrow 

Was once to me but a word ; 
Now it curdles the soul within me 

And measures the nature stirred. 
My spirit is deep as the ocean 

On which he sails from me, 
And rich as a mine in feeling — 

He might have held its key. 

Could he love, yet give no token 

Save false ambition's sign ? 
I can see that Sorceress beckon 

His being's course from mine. 



1 4 BEN' S ISABELLA. 

Ah! when his white sails faded 

From eyes that spurned the shore, 

Hope sank like an orb resplendent 
That bursts to shine no more. 

Fain had I ventured to pursue the source 

Of this strange threnode ; save that conscience wrought 

With certain guesses to forbid the search, 

Scorning the subtle larceny that thieves 

Within the privacy of suffering hearts, 

Wresting slain, buried hopes, from out their crypts 

For curious dissection. 

Nor would time 
Permit my lingering ; for duty called 
To swift departure. So my punctual host 
Furthered my haste, with friendliness as true 
As that which gave me welcome and good cheer. 

I was a busy man in that past time. 

My brain teemed daily with fresh reasonings 

On codes and proofs ; my heart with household joy 

O'erflowed. 

A wife was mine, my youth's true love, 
The pride and comrade of my manly years, 
The cynosure of all my social aims, 



OFF PL YMO UTH CO AS T. 1 5 

Our children's wise instructress, central ray 

Of our home's galaxy through many a year 

Together passed since then. That ray, alas! 

Some twelve months since, ceased in Time's sphere to 

shine, 
And now invites my spirit's gaze more high 
Than earth's domain, toward bliss transcending far 
Our mortal joys — bliss emblemed here below 
In wedded love. Blest meanings seem to soar 
And sing about me, when I note the types 
Apocalyptic of supernal scenes : 
The marriage-supper, the appearing Lord, 
The Bride adorned, the Father's house prepared, 
The jubilates of adoring hosts — 
'Till all that life has witnessed of home's love 
And restful peace ; of triumph, knowledge, gain, 
Achievement, exaltation, harmony, 
Seems but a picture on Time's narrow wall, 
A statue-group within her temple placed, 
A song or two by tremulous voices tuned, 
Designed to set forth Heaven in type and sign. 

Now I have leisure, while the shades of age 
Gather about my path, to contemplate 
A thousand things my younger gaze o'erlooked. 
The culturing and growth of harvest fruits ; 



1 6 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

The ripe ingatherings after pains and toils ; 

The changes of the seasons, winter's deaths 

And springtime's resurrections ; the strict course 

Of stars and mystic comets swerving not 

Through their stupendous rounds one second's beat 

From their celestial schedules ; — all to me 

Symbol intangible realities, 

Or set forth prophecies in emblem-speech. 

In what a school has heavenly Wisdom placed 
Earth's children, giving the inquiring gaze 
E'en to the infant, whose exploring hand 
Proves every substance to its clinging grasp 
Accessible; and to man's search mature 
Submitting things above, around, beneath! 
How to man's patience do the mysteries 
Of this great Universe unfold their scrolls! 
How do the elements of earth and air 
Become his ministers, yielding him food, 
Raiment, adorning! He experiments 
And broods o'er metals, magnets, resins, webs, 
When lo! there come forth prodigies of force 
To speed him on; trumpets from shore to shore 
Proclaim his murmurs in lone chambers spoken; 
Even his tones creep into waxen sheets 
To sleep and wake again; his smiles and frowns 



OFF PL YMO UTH COAST. 1 7 

Are copied by sun-pencils; flame and heat 
Spring at his touch; and great lights, that portend 
Revealings of a final judgment's gleams, 
Rend midnight's pall before his ships. 

The myths 
Of Greece, fables of Araby, and tales 
Of fays and giants spurning rules and space, 
Which roused our childish wonder, yield the palm 
Of strangeness to reality; and oft 
' Tis asked, "Was dream or fancy yet but finds 
Somewhere, somehow, its counterpart in fact?" 

Through wit and studious research man cleaves 

Into components e'en the unseen air, 

Chaining each subtile gas. Prying, he finds 

New continents teeming with myriad lives 

Below the senses' ordinary ken 

Hidden by minuteness marvelous. What realms, 

What treasures may become revealed to him 

Who reverent seeks instruction above gold ! 

To him the drill that penetrates a cliff, 

And spade that digs a moat may become keys 

Unlocking Earth's primeval registries 

With fossil hyerioglyphics writ: The flints 

That mar his roads may dainty agents prove 



1 8 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

To speed his vision past sublunar skies, 

And star-rays may turn whispers and reveal — 

What stuff their worlds are made of, though 'tis well 

Those worlds remain too distant to distract 

The keenest gaze long from this orb of ours 

With all its countless progenies and forms, 

Its endless movement, changeful harmony, 

And rich complexity of circumstance. 

I find me here amidst this vast display, 
A tiny flickering speck, yet sharing all 
According to capacity so fit 
For such a sphere, that it includes concepts 
Of Time's long histories, and things to come 
When Time is past; with sorrows that cry out 
As deep to deep, and joys that climb the skies. 
Naught comprehending to complete extent, 
Yet apprehending God, my soul from out 
Her fading tent peers toward unfading shores, 
Nor doubts thereon her heavenly house to find, 
When these flesh curtains fall. Often she sings 
Songs of exultant and adoring faith, 
With gracious foretaste of immortal peace. 



OFF PLYMOUTH COAST. 19 

A CHANT OF CONFIDENCE. 

Cradled on the care divine, 

Rest, believing spirit! rest; 
All thy Maker's power is thine, 

All His wisdom makes thee blest. 

As the duteous stars in space, 

Poised along His circuits roll; 
So illumined from His face, 

Be thy stately ways, my soul! 

Not for thee th' inconstant course, 

Not its darkness, nor its wrath; 
Where light streams from light's own Source, 

Love shall gravitate thy path. 



CANTO II. 
LOVE'S IDEAL. 

SOMETIMES, alas! my yearning heart reviews 
In pensive sorrow those lost happy days 
Lit by the brightness of a wife's fond smile. 
Ah! then I prize that crowning gift — true love — 
Above all earthly boons to mortals given, 
Bond of pure hearts in Eden, and best type 
Of Christ's redemptive favor. 

Love! what power 
Is in thy sway! Thy history is Man's. 
Diverted like a stream from its safe course, 
Thou hast spread ruin o'er the fairest climes, 
Subtly removed foundations, and swept down 
Broad fabrics of dominion wisely planned. 
Thou, when corrupted, hast to artifice 
Changed counsel and made heroes brave 
Tremble and yield their swords to win a smile; 
Nor less, when pure, hast made the weary strong, 



LOVE'S IDEAL. 21 

And nourished states to honor and renown. 

Strong attribute of human hearts! Thy joys 

And griefs pervade the lore of every land. 

The lyre of ancient Greece is thrilling still 

From the impulses of thy deathless touch. 

From Dante's blue, indulgent native skies, 

To Scandinavia's maelstrom-guarded coast, 

Thy fancies fill the legend and the lay. 

From the rich music of our British harps, 

In sweet progression sounding down the years, 

Thy spell comes stealing o'er the hearts of men; 

It haunts the mystic verse of earliest realms, 

Whence the world's races wandered widely forth, 

Inspires the epics of the sunrise isles, 

Swerves the dimmed crescent in its languid course, 

And spreads 'neath grovey banyan and tall palm, 

A fitful influence tender, gay, or fierce. 

Its power that rent the heart of Priam's son, 

When the Greek snatched a Helen from his side, 

Moved the sad soul of India's Shah Jehan 

To rear o'er Noor-Mahal, once his throne's light, 

The wondrous Taj, noblest of burial shrines. 

Mid Agra's cypress shades, thy pillars shine 
In melancholy splendor, Taj Mahal! 
Love's witness mute, yet unto melody 



22 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

i 

So prone, that to the softest human sigh 
Tremblingly floating upward to thy dome, 
The spaces give back music. 

Thus a heart 
That long in silence yearned, at Love's first tone, 
Pours from its prisoned fullness swift response. 
Fair temple of the heart! in thee Love's sphere , 
And prime intent are emblemized mid scenes 
Where Love has been most wounded and betrayed. 
Love's steadfast strength, engaging harmony, 
Her graceful blending of complex ideas, 
Her long remembrance and devotion rich, 
Her aspiration, purity, and peace — 
Speak from thy matchless walls, thine airy towers, 
Thy precious crypt and dome of radiant white, 
In full perfection of accordant parts. 
Thou seem'st an oracle on Jumna's banks 
Telling at dawn, or sunset's tender hour, 
Or clearest 'neath the glorious Indian moon, 
Love's prophecy to Asia's hearts and homes, 
For days that hasten down the slopes of Heaven. 
Nor speakst thou solely for the orient tribes; 
For many a pilgrim wand'ring over seas, 
Lured by thy story to old Agra's seat, 



LOVE'S IDEAL. 23 

Returning- shall recount afar the tale 

Of Jehan's love, and loss, and memory true, 

And listening mourners shall reply with tears, 

"So o'er a buried one as dear, as fond 

As Noor-Mahal, would I like tribute rear, 

Were this permitted." Some may be who note 

With changeless features what these travelers tell, 

Whose heart-throbs turned to whispers would speak thus: 

"As wrought the Shah Jehan with costly gems, 

In honor of a Light removed afar; 

So fervently my reft heart heaps and frames 

Its treasures — spoils of patience won through strife, 

Devotion's opals, pearls of tenderness, 

Sapphires of constancy, rubies intense 

Of fondness, crystals of bright sympathy, 

Mid cypress of pathetic loneliness — 

In memory of the far ideal I miss. 

I, too, can comprehend Love's loss." 



CANTO III. 
THE BALL. 

CLARA! my vanished wife — true love and friend, 
Of thee was I reminded in soft hours 
Of a bright summer mid New Hampshire hills, 
When, as perchance I climbed some rugged pass, 
I met young lovers hand in hand, absorbed 
In fond communings; or perceived some pair 
Long mated, sitting 'neath a leafy arch, 
Restfully happy in confiding speech 
Or sympathetic silence, their calm smiles 
No fitful dawn-rays of an early spring, 
But the rich sunshine of an afternoon 
Of tried affection. 

" Hail, such lot serene! " 
I whispered, faring on my lonely path. 
Sometimes, too, as I rambled in the wild, 
I pondered subtle problems that perplex 
Young hearts, no more, for my sake, vexing mine. 
So an old seaman wand'ring on the verge 



LOVE'S IDEAL. 25 

Of ocean may recall strange dangers past, 
Tempests encountered, wreck-strewn waves 
And marking, now and then, a ship off shore, 
Compare the tides and weather with its course. 

Not for himself he fears again the blast, 
But yearns, for others' safety, to commend 
Tried rules of sea-craft to new mariners. 

Returning from the wild, one evening bright 

With orbs declaring glory, while fixed law 

Controlled their changes intricate and vast, 

I mused how method and precision mark 

The Universe in all its cyclic modes, 

Through all its measureless expanses, proving 

One authorship, one will ineffable; 

And reasoning from this premise plainly writ 

On all the glittering pages of the heavens, 

And traced in lesser characters around — 

In floating mists suffusing balanced dust, 

In circling dew-drops, and by measured winds 

Whispered — I thence deduced how Peace attends 

Alone on order, in all moral spheres. 

But see! our mountain inn ablaze with lights, 
And gay with laughter, music, and discourse. 



26 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Passing within, I rested half-concealed 

Deep in an alcove of its central hall, 

Closely observant of the showy scenes. 

Maidens and mothers, youths and men of years 

Drawn from the heated cities of our land, 

To share the mountains' breath and rove the woods, 

Had gathered to commingle in a ball. 

Soft robes swayed near me, fragrance from pure flowers 

Pressed to fair bosoms mingled on my sense. 

In triple waves the slow waltz rippling flowed, 

And lovely forms seemed floating on its tide. 

There came a pause, when at my side appeared 
A slender maiden, with a pensive eye 
And rosy flush that woke within my mind 
Dear recollections of a modest glance, 
That in my early manhood was a beam 
Lighting my reverent way to sweet success. 

The music burst, anew the waltz waves flowed, 
And as an iridescence from the clouds, 
Vanished my tender dream of other days. 
Close on the breast of a wine-heated man, 
Whose gentle wife within a distant home 
Sang to his babes grief-laden lullabys; 
I saw the maid, whose blush of tenderness 



LOVE'S IDEAL. 

Should be a guerdon rare conferred alone 
On a true lover's brave and constant faith, 
Borne through the eddies of the whirling dance. 
Wives too, from husbands were asunder placed 
To lean on alien hearts and give a clasp 
That should be consecrate to sacred trust 
And love unchanging, for a like return 
From the beguilers of that idle hour. 

My brain grew hot, as when its early tides 
Had rushed tumultuous at first sense of wrong. 
Caution forgot to chide, though oft she seemed 
To say: "Beware, old man! lest thou misjudge 
The customs of this new progressive time, 
The lens of age fits not youth's guileles eyes." 
Uncurbed by wonted rein my speech broke forth 
On the surprised ears of a white-haired dame, 
Who came that instant toward my alcove seat. 
A wan-smile flickering o'er her hollow cheeks, 
Not warmer than the moon's ray upon snow, 
Vanished at my sharp tone; her thin, veined hand 
Touched her false puffs, then felt her frill of lace 
To find if aught offended there the mode, 
To which her shriveled taste and pinioned will 
Paid humblest tribute. 



27 



28 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

In her startled look 
I read dismay, as though my anxious word — 
"Madam, are we to sanction these strange ways, 
Nor voice our protest? " — must imply some law 
Of fashion slighted, some forgotten brooch 
Or missing hairpin, leaving dreadful breach 
In her array. 

At length her timid voice 
Stole out beyond the music — " Pardon, Sir; 
What ways have thus offended ? None, I trust, 
In such a place transgress 'gainst etiquette." 
" Madam, this sanctioned twining of strange arms, 
Tho' set to languid rounds of metred noise, 
Offends my soul. Dancing in our young days, 
Was, at least, civil, and the minuet 
Was courteous and stately. In those times, 
Caresses were Love's characters inscribed 
Not upon sign-posts in the market-place. 
Shall morning-dews be dashed by Impudence 
From Life's spring-buds, on whose unfolding wait 
The omens of pure love and household peace ? 
Madam, I hold that e'en this visible frame 
Of our august existence is a shrine 
For reverent regard, where but its priests 



LOVE' S IDEAL. 29 

Anointed by affection, whitely robed, 
Should closely wait beside its curtain-folds." 

The dancers paused. The matron's sober gaze 
Was fixed on mine, as, with a faint quick blush, 
Reflection of past bloom, that once prevailed 
Ere heart-throbs were repressed, she said, "Perhaps, 
Your words are true. I used to speak the like. 
But then, the young must have their pleasures, Sir; 
Their social pastimes, ere life's burdens press." 

"Still, let us call no pleasure good," I cried, 

"That dulls susceptibility of soul 

To best emotions, or perverts its sense 

Of ideality, that in Life's spring 

Is tender as the frail anemone. 

I'd cherish fresh aromas of the May, 

Ere strengthened fibre meet the August glare. 

But can we call that social, which precludes 
All candid converse; or that pastime safe, 
Wherein a serious word would move dismay, 
Or play the clown's part of absurdity ? 
Listen the trifles floated to our ears, 
Weigh them, if they have weight. 

Pardon! Good-night." 



CANTO IV. 



ART DREAMS. 
A DREAM DISPELLED. 

IANTHE! brightest of the stars that gleam, 
Paris, upon thy histrionic boards, 
Wearied with nightly twinklings to thy crowds, 
Withdraws her brilliance to our western clime, 
And gilds our mountain summits with her beams. 
Lo! senators and doctors of the law 
Deeply inclining raise obsequious eyes 
To win a ray of her defiant glance, 
While modest wives and studious girls admire 
Awe-struck, her manners, copying their art. 
The journals of our land of pilgrim sires 
Trace out her steps, as sages trace out suns; 
The press of Britain and of France contend 
Over her eyelids, as their armies sparred 
For conquest ere the reign of proud Queen Bess. 
Is not her stature draped as freakishly 



ART DREAMS. 3 r 

As any chief barbaric decks his frame, 
Posed in each attitude that conscious art 
Assumes to simulate unconscious grace, 
Copied in galleries, enshrined in homes, 
And flaunted in the marts of every town, 
To lure the wavering fancy of our youth 
Toward the unquiet paths of her career ? 

She sojourns in our plain New Hampshire inn, 

Whose fame thereon is bruited far and wide. 

Quickly its halls by Fashion's hordes are thronged; 

Slim, perfumed youths, whose fingers ne'er controlled 

A tool more useful than a billiard-cue, 

Dash from swift trains, whose shrieks in Sabbath hours 

Shock th' astonished hills that shriek again, 

And chase Ianthe's shadow with a zeal 

That copies, as their feebler brains allow, 

The impetuous courage of their nobler sires, 

Whose careful toil in frugal early years, 

Won plenty's wreath to crown their honored age. 

How swiftly shall that rich parental crown 

Be rent and scattered on diffusive waves 

Of ease voluptuous, where nerveless limbs 

Untrained in sober Labor's honest schools, 

And guided by no firm instructed will — 

Sink in oblivion's deeps, to rise no more! 



32 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

In youth I knew a score of college boys, 

Whose fathers, by long search in Science's mines, 

Had found fair trophies to enrich their race, 

Or had attained of difficult Finance 

The golden heights, and thereon set their sons, 

Whose rising manhood ere full-orbed grew dark 

And sank before Ianthes of those days; 

As white Japonicas take on the shades 

Of brown decay, before a passing breath.. 

Yes, more, I have known men of good renown, 
Who conquered stigma, braved a hundred wrongs, 
And dashed from Tyranny his iron crest, 
Who from beneath the bays a nation gave, 
Caught some warm glance from an Ianthe cast 
Amid the glare and witchery of her art, 
And faded like a star dimmed out of heaven. 



Oft having heard a crash of ruined life, 

And felt the tremblings soul-falls made around 

My standing-ground, whence down th' abyss 

That swallowed men I gazed with fear-strained eyes, 

Should I still calmly view such ruin's source — 

Ianthe-worship ? 



ART DREAMS. 33 

No; 'tis as the cult 
Of Montezumas in old Mexico, 
That yearly pampered a well-favored youth 
With all that sensual luxury could give, 
Then cut his heart out at a twelve month's end; 
So while its rites were fostered in our inn, 
While August constellations lit the sky, 
I sometimes sat aloof mid the parterres. 
Here to my side would Victor love to stray — 
A youth with genius gifted, whose warm soul 
Sought vainly in the throng for kindred minds. 

His fancy generous would fain have clothed 

All beings round him, from its plenteous stores, 

With qualities superlative, yet found 

That real lives oft cast aside in scorn 

His graceful webs, or wore them awkwardly. 

Being untutored in mere artifice, 
And having but his pale face and plain tongue 
To match 'gainst flippancy and practiced wiles, 
He gathered disappointment and dismay, 
As souls like his are wont, ere skill is theirs 
To clothe their dream with substance, of desire 
To forge the resolution that achieves. 



34 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

To him 'twas strange, as yet, when beauteous lips 
Failed to speak perfect sentiments, or praise 
The aspirations that infused his soul, 
While men of low ambitions were approved. 
'Twas mine to probe his spirit with sharp words: 
"They but deserve defeat who search for pearls 
In surface foam. Let us not droop and mourn 
That peacocks will not lend us friendly wings 
To bear our bulk aloft. 

" You covet ease 
And fond caressing from papilios gay, 
Yet still would stalk with lions. 

" Victor, Life 
Has clear distinctions. Man must firmly choose, 
And choosing, must relinquish. They who grasp 
At all, hold nothing surely." 

Thus I spoke 
One eve to Victor, knowing his sad eyes 
Pursued a beauteous creature, as she stepped 
From a piazza, with a dark-faced man — 
Julian his name, hers Madeleine. Her hand 
Lay lily-white in Julian's swarthy clasp, 



ART DREAMS. 35 

Her golden locks fanned by a gentle breeze, 
Gilded his shoulder, as they sauntered by. 

Then came an artist famed, of noble soul, 

His head downcast, who stumbling on me, cried: 

"Ah ! so, good friend, you leave the rattling halls 

To watch the stars dance. Please you, I sit down." 

"Welcome," I answered, " Victor will agree 

You are most welcome. I philosophize 

To this young man. Age has broad privilege. 

Victor has stirrings to smite marble, Sir, 

Till it takes on great meanings." 

The famed man 
Replied "That's well. Marble endures and holds 
Great meanings long. And is our Victor sure 
He has his meaning ready for the rock? " 
"I dream Life has great meanings," Victor said, 
"Yet Life's experience disappoints my dreams, 
And leaves my hands too nerveless to carve stone. 
Unhappily I can not write mere dreams 
In adamant, I'd see them first set forth 
In actual modes that still elude my quest. 
I have an artist's feeling, but the brain 
Of a mechanic, I must square my thought, 



36 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Use plumb-line of experiment, make sure 
With nail of fact, and screw of certitude." 

Kindly the artist, like a healer spoke, 

"Do not for this despair. In Art's true schools 

There is scant space left for mere fantasies, 

The day has dawned, when men have eyes to see 

That Beauty dwells with Wholesomeness, that Harm 

Is loathsome, Benefit forever fair, 

Though often veiled. Who build unyielding- towers 

Need plumb-lines, proofs, and careful reckonings; 

So they who fashion deathless things in Art, 

Must follow changeless principles." 

"Thanks, Sir," 
Cried Victor, " By your kindness I am bold 
To ask if ever plodding care gave birth 
To fiery eloquence or moving song, 
Or /rom the canvass or the stone evoked 
Enchantment? " 

" Nay, I do but certify 
Conditions that e'en Genius must obey, 
Though doubtless oft instinctively, or fall 
Trampled beneath the van-ranks of our time. 
Meanwhile her meanings must transcend their rules, 
As swift-wheeled motors flaming o'er their tracks, 



ART DREAMS. 37 

Transcend their tracks. Her utterances now 

Must speak to hearts that yearn, and joy, or break, 

In any realm of this broad world of ours. 

Great motives taking hold on destinies 

That touch eternity must Genius feel, 

To reach to highest prize." The artist paused 

Reflective. 

"It was ever thus, in truth," 
I ventured, "though our race was sometimes blind 
To grandest revelations. Righteous zeal 
'Gainst tyranny, love, courage, worship, faith 
Are meanings that transfuse Art's noblest forms." 
"Aye, ever thus," he echoed, with full tone, 
" Her noblest forms were filled, yet meanings base 
Have won applause, where style was masterful 
To set them forth, and where the people's thought 
Was brutal or benumbed. But who now faints 
With appetite to witness a suttee, 
Or to see men vie with fierce beasts in strife ? 
In sunset lands, where Art's new course begins, 
Men's hearts no longer gloat o'er carnage scenes; 
But admiration, when Oppression dies, 
Breaks into raptures. He who climbs henceforth 
To highest seats of Art, must feel strong hopes, 



38 BEN ' S ISABELLA. 



Must meditate great issues, mourn deep woes, 
Feel his own heart-strings draw in love or scorn, 
Express sweet joys of innocence, or strike 
Terror at Evil's infamy and loss. 
There must be sturdy fibre in the man 
Who reaches this. 



Yon Julian who passed near 
Some moments since, aimed high but missed the mark. 
He had a soul-test that has left him charred, 
Not seasoned yew tough for the bow-string's strain. 
His wife, a gracious woman, loved him well, 
And was beloved of Julian, Julian-wise; 
But now they live disjoined by his self-pride — 
A hedge where vipers nest and multiply." 

Here Victor furious interposed "A wife! 
And he snares stealthily a peerless maid — 
I'll to the rescue, she shall stumble not 
Down the fell crater whence his hate has poured 
Destruction on a wife's peace. 

Victor's hand 
Will snatch the maid to safety, though a flood 
Of malice scorch him from that crater's fires." 



ART DREAMS. 39 

"Stay, stay," the Artist warned, 

" Yon maid knows all, 
But loves the crater's brink with Julian near, 
More than the peaceful vales of Innocence. 
Not every handsome creature feels disgust 
At sulphur-fumes; some leave their villa-porch 
Clematis-wreathed, and decked in roses pure, 
To walk with villains in hot lava-paths." 

" Can this be true? " groaned Victor, after pause, 
" Methinks I could be strong with chisel now, 
Carving a Tempter — not for fame or joy, 
But wrath. And surely there is room with Art 
For such a work, wrought with impetuous hand." 

"My friend," the Master answered, " there is room 

For Genius speaking bravely from strong sense 

Of moral differences, room perchance 

For all impassioned honesty to speak 

In marble; but the chisel must be skilled 

That strikes this forth, the hand that guides it nerved 

With purpose having source in a deep soul 

Not used to counterfeit. 

Greece gave us forms 
Faultless in poise and exquisite in grace, 



4 o BEN'S ISABELLA. 

. 
Whose shape we may scarce equal, not excel, 
Whose meanings the attainments of our age 
Should far surpass. 

Her Pan and satyr stage 
Shamed her and shames its modern copyists, 
Who reproduce such grossness, having eyes, 
Yet seeing not what progress adorns Time, 
Since Pallas wisest of the Grecian's gods 
Sank with her Athens into long decay, 
And from Egina's waves men ceased to gaze 
With hearts of worship toward the Parthenon, 
Hailing her image." 

Forth the famed man strode, 
Leaving us silent neath th' enduring stars. 

Then flashed a falling meteor down the sky, 

Paling the fixed stars with its fleeting glow 

That dying left their tremulous fires undimmed. 

Uprising, Victor cried: " Farewell, I go 

At daybreak from these hill-tops to the town, 

And from these dream-days merge to earnest hours." 

"Be brave," I faltered, "steadily pursue 

The old unvarying orbit of Good Will, 

Nor flash in self-devouring vengeance flames 

To ashes: thus your lot will shine serene 

When meteors are extinct." 



ART DREAMS. 41 

His hand seized mine, 
Pressing it warmly — and he went to rest. 
While yet his footsteps sounded on the walk, 
A man dashed toward me, crying, " So one less 
Among the stars! You saw it burst and sink ? 
Some tell us stars are worlds. Sir, I say no, 
They're lights just put there to rule night, the sun 
To rule the day. That's what the Scripture says 
And quite enough for me. 

" Let Science go, 
I say" — here he sat down, grasping my sleeve, 
"My boy went, Sir, to an Academy, 
To please his mother, and he would run home 
With nonsense about angles, arcs, and planes, 
And say men measure stars and prove their weight 
Immense, and that the best of them are suns. 
My daughter went to boarding-school awhile, 
And came back puzzling over poppy-flowers, 
And weeds, and daisies, picking them to bits, 
And calling them hard names; till I said stop ! 
Enough of this. 

" I left off study, Sir, 
At twelve, when I could cypher, spell, and write, 
Then went to work and have worked ever since. 



42 . BEN' S ISABELLA. 

My bank-accounts shows what a man can do 
Who keeps to business strictly. 

" My girl Madge 
Was courted by that lazy Victor, once. 
'Artist,' she called him. Strange a woman thinks 
These visionary youngsters worth a look, 
I finished that affair. A pretty girl 
Is Madge — her mother calls her Madeleine — 
And dutiful, now that I've called her off 
From weeds and nonsense. I shall marry her 
To some good fellow who is shrewd at trade. 
I have one such in view. 

" Why, there is Madge 
Returning from a moonlight walk with — whom ? 
Ha! Julian. 

" No; it can not be my child 
Is roving with that wretch. 

" Yes, yes, 'tis so. 
I warned her of his ways, and promised her 
Jewels, gowns, anything, so she refuse 
His presence. 

"I will hound them — but what use ? 
She cheats her plain old father. Sir, I'm sick, 



ART DREAMS. 43 

And these poor tears — you must not tell the world. 
I've hoarded riches for my children's sake, 
And my boy — Sir, I will confess at last — 
Defies me boldly, since he left the school, 
Gambling and racing, and forsaking work. 
But Madaleine, on whom my trust was set, 
Deceives her plain old father! " 

So he walked 
Mournfully from me, shedding bitter tears. 

If it be thine, O, Pain! to rouse his soul 

From a long servitude to sordid Greed 

By sense of wounded fatherhood, thy part 

Shall be angelic in its ministry, 

Though thou affright the captive striking off 

His chains, and leading him to freedom's light. 



CANTO V. 



BEN. 



TT7HILE still sojourning mid the Hampshire hills, 

^ ^ As bright September used to cast the glow 
And shade of her delicious afternoons 
O'er the ripe landscape, I would often seek 
My favorite seat, a moss-upholstered couch 
Formed by the twisted and protuberant roots 
Of two old oaks, whose boughs above my head 
Loftily intermingled, while below 
Their nether fibres knitted in the soil 
Strengthened the hillside that supported them. 
My fellow guests were won't to pass near by 
Toward sites more distant, seeking dizzy views. 
Often while musing in my solitude, 
I saw their garments glinting through the leaves, 
And sometimes yearned for fitting comradeship. 

At length, one day, beneath the mated oaks, 
My heart was cheered by a congenial friend, 
Whose coming was an unexpected joy. 



BEN. 45 

We had been college class-mates, Ben and I. 
Then he had settled northward, I to west 
Had journeyed, tarrying in a frontier State 
A year or two, ere to my native East 
Returned to enter on a strenuous course 
Of study, followed by a long career 
Of practice in the courts; and soon it fell 
That intercourse between us was at end. 
Ben says he toiled most sternly to surmount 
The steeps and tangles of his chosen paths, 
And found the way so hedged, the goal so far, 
He dared not turn aside to Friendship's meads, 
But pushed straight on. 

With me capacity 
Found full employ through years of strength. 

Of late 
Retired from bustling cares and pensive grown, 
Like housewife who recalls at twilight hour 
Her children's pretty prattle and sweet looks, 
The ways and speech of lately vanished guests 
Marked lightly mid the duties that had pressed 
At noontide, mindful, too, meanwhile 
How daylight wanes and stars come forth on high; 
So I would recollect life's common scenes 



46 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

And summon histories that from long sleep 
Awake refreshed. 

Oft had I asked myself 
"What has become of Ben? He must have reached 
Some shining point, with that aggressive brain 
Curbed, it is true, \>y caution and reserve, 
Yet charged with force like the electric storm's, 
And waiting but some clear, far-reaching track 
To be a highway for its energies." 

I pictured, too, his tall and massive frame, 

His eyes whose fire made ambush 'neath deep brows, 

His noble head crowned with a raven wealth — 

Till once when murmuring his familiar name, 

" Strange! " thought I, "it finds counterpart exact 

In that of the inventor, which of late 

Goes ringing through the land! Can he be Ben ? 

If so, he chose no road prepared and plain, 

But bade his genius hew its own Simplon." 



While I was pondering thus, my ancient heart 
Gave a young bound; for 'neath the oaken boughs, 
My very Ben bearing the weight of years 
Not wearily, looked with no faded glance 
Into my eyes, and strongly grasped my hand! 



BEN. 

He said my name had sparkled in the list 
Of the sojourners mid his native hills, 
Like a lost gem he long had sought in vain, 
Now glistening close beside his daily path. 

A breeze from new-mown valley hayfields blown 
To our retreat was like the balmy sense 
Ben's coming brought of gentle memories; 
And like that lowly landscape to our view 
Compact in distance, was the glimpse I showed 
Of past experience to my questioning friend. 

Reminding him how I was early taught 
By parents, whose example to their speech 
Was as the coast well-measured to its chart, 
To seek Heaven's guidance and prime tribute pay 
To Being's Source, I told him that my heart 
Restrained by reason from the trackless wilds 
Where fancy roves unchecked, had early found 
In Clara Raye a loving, well-loved wife. 

Union in purpose, powers proportionate, 

Full confidence, and heart preference made 

Our home-life glad. Her prudence made my toil 

Effective amply to content our needs 

In days when fortune showed a wavering scale. 



47 



48 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

But whether dollars were hard-won and few. 

Or more abundant, as the years advanced, 

For open worship and for private alms 

We gave first fruits, spending in praise and prayer 

An early fragment of each busy day, 

And shared in hospitable ministries 

Service and store, receiving unawares 

Angel-like visitors ; till home became 

A tranquil Bethel in earth's wilderness. 

Oft to our sons and daughters we rehearsed 
The lore of Holy Writ, its histories 
Of faithful lives, and prophecies that rise 
Like hill-tops that first catch the rays of dawn. 

I spoke of all this humbly, minding well 

My inward failings and my frequent faults, 

Yet fain to witness to the faithfulness 

Of this sure Word : Who seeks Heaven's kingdom first 

Shall lack not common gifts. 

This had we proved 
Dear wife and I, with love and plenty blest. 
Nor had our sons departed from our way, 
Though sadly tempted by corrupting wiles, 
In life's fresh years, and led to waver oft 



BEN. 



49 



Concerning" those strong tenets whence ring forth 
Dread warnings < 
Loud danger sign 
Make shipwreck. 



Dread warnings o'er the waves where souls embark — 
Loud danger signals that must sound, or men 



Now with steadfast eyes, my sons 
Discern those lights that from the vast expanse 
Of the eternities illume Life's sky, 
Too high for creature hands to touch or change, 
Yet for the guidance of attentive minds, 
Sufficient, and in Revelation's chart 
Laid down to guide the mariners of Time. 
Ruled by these lights each steers his household bark, 
Bearing on freight of love's unwithering fruits, 
And gold of wisdom, for their fellow men. 

"Your sons have households ; does your daughter bloom 

Still 'neath your roof-tree, making gladness there ? " 

My dear Ben questioned, dreaming not what pangs 

Pierced my fresh wounds, as I responded " No ; 

She blooms on high, beside the mother-plant, 

Transported both to fadeless fields of bliss. 

But tell me kindly, to divert my thought 

From grief that stirs at recollection's voice, 

Some chapter of your past ; or from your muse 

That sang soft numbers in our college days, 

Choose some refrain. 



50 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

" Your vigorous brain equipped, 
To search new realms, was like a huntsman armed 
For quest of largest game ; yet from whose belt 
Hung a sweet bugle, that in restful hours, 
Woke sylvan echoes with a melody." 

Ben's eyes grew dreamy, then with inward beams 
They seemed illumined, as in low rich tone, 
He told this simple lay of youth and love ; 

BELLA AND TUDOR. 

See you yonder little town 

On the hill's breast nestling 
Where the mountain stream comes down 

With the mill-wheels wrestling, 

Whipped amid resistance, 

To enforced assistance, 

Till ashamed of riot 

More subdued and quiet, 

Under drooping willows 

Shading its white billows, 
On it glides with roar subsiding, 
'Mid the groves of Delia hiding. 

Fair the town with gardens green 
Bowered amid the larches, 



BEN. 

Pleasant happy homes were seen 
Under elm-tree arches. 

One such home was Bella's, 

Fairest of fair dwellers. 

Brown her eyes, with lashes 

Veiling half their flashes, 

Glossy locks seemed wreathing, 

Classic beauty breathing, 
When her twentieth summer brought her 
Love, and Love's first lessons taught her. 

Tudor, youth from Georgia's clime, 
Brought his books to Delia, 

But his heart that summer time, 
Studied only Bella. 

Sang the oriole golden 

In the pear-tree olden, 

"Belle! Belle! Isabella!" 

Tudor answered "Tell her 

That I love her dearly." 

" Love her ! love her" clearly 

Trilled the oriole upward steering, 

Till in sunshine disappearing. 

, As he walked to church betimes — 
Ah! the pious fellow — 



5i 



52 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Tudor deemed the Sunday chimes, 
Pealed forth "Isabella!" 
Her sweet alto ringing 
Seemed an angel's singing. 
Close he watched the preaching, 
Not to note the teaching, 
But to mark its ending, 
When her way attending, 
He might catch the pleasure glowing 
In her smile with joy o'er flowing. 

Often when in garden bower, 
Bella wandered seeming 

Quite absorbed in vine and flower, 
She was only dreaming. 

Strange! from out the thicket, 
"Tudor!" chirped the cricket. 
Strange, too, and amusing — 
Birds are so confusing — 
That a bird should flutter 
Near, each morn, and utter, 

Eyeing her — the sly intruder — 

"Tudor! Tudor! Tu-Tu-Tudor! " 

Tudor had a gallant's art, 
Keen of apprehension 



BEN. 53 

He could speak to Bella's heart, 
By a pink or gentian. 

John the sturdy farmer 

Was not such a charmer; 

Bashful, shy, and steady, 

He was oft unready, 

Though before some others 

Praised by prudent mothers, 
To his birthright fields devoted, 
And for study somewhat noted. 

To her grandsire's Bella went, 

At the claim of duty, 
And, ere half a week was spent, 
Came a city beauty, 

Tudor's cousin Ella, 

To the town of Delia, 

And his hours beguiling, 

Oft beside him smiling, 

Through the green lanes walking 

Set the gossips talking, 
Till their rumor wildly flying 
Pierced a heart in distance sighing. 



Strange the letter white and fair, 
Folded o'er a locket, 



54 



BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Sent to her in grandpa's care, 
In the inner pocket 
Of his coat lay hiding, 
While sad weeks were gliding. 
Ere her late returning 
Filled with grief and yearning, 
Tudor had departed, 
And she walked proud-hearted, 
But no more the same glad Bella, 
In the sere home-bowers of Delia. 

At the questioning farewell word 
Left for her by Tudor, 

All her jealousy was stirred, 
Else had love subdued her. 
Ah! how pride concealing 
A hurt maiden's feeling, 
Makes her seem uncaring, 
Gives her strength and daring! 
No one guessed how weary 
Was the winter dreary, 

How its winds sighed " Farewell! " only, 

While the river whispered "Lonely." 

John was steadfast, John was true, 
John would be contented 



BEN. 55 



With a gentle word or two, 
And her lips consented, 
When he came renewing 
His long baffled wooing. 
Wherefore should they tarry ? 
He was fain to marry, 
His lone mother needed 
Bella near, he pleaded; 
So ere early corn was springing, 
Wedding bells were gaily ringing. 



Now silence fell between us for a time, 
Till suddenly, as from a dream awaked, 
Ben clasped my hand, and rising turned to go, 
But I restrained him with entreaty. 

"Stay, 
The sun is high; your idyl was too brief. 
Surely your muse too cordially has sung 
To have grown weary of her theme. 

" I'd hear 
The echoes of those festive Delia chimes, 
E'ert to their last refrain, here mid these hills, 
Where sound melodious is not broken off 
Like the dull thud of counterfeited coins, 



56 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

But in and out among the rocks and pines 
Reverberates and winds. 

So let your words. 
Prolong that village music in my thoughts." 
He gravely smiled, then from his vesture drew 
Some folded pages. 

" I've been scribbling here, 
Of late," he said, "but my once daring Muse, 
After a rest of years, has grown so shy, 
Like novice first before, an audience placed 
Who stands on either foot alternately, 
Now on one metre, first, her blushing weight, 
On other next she rests. Small faculty 
Has she to clearly sing the ample score 
That stands complete before my spirit's eye. 
In varying rhythm a fragment, here and there, 
Is all she dares attempt, and for this hour 
Sings only the ' New Problem ' for your ear." 

THE NEW PROBLEM. 

SCARCE conscious of his fulness of content, 
John watched the tranquil Summer strew his plains 
With golden increase, till her time was spent, 
And mild September breezes shook the grains. 



BEN. 57 

Problems of Science, when the farm's demands 
Were simplest, mid the leisure of dull days, 

Would fill with strange experiments his hands, 
And lead his thoughts in theoretic maze. 

■ 

Dear was the sight of mother and of wife 
Beneath their roof, at morning, noon or eve; 

They were eachother's now, henceforth for life, 

For aught beside, why should they yearn or grieve ? 

• 
Still, youth was seed-time, and he willed that age 

Should find his mental garners richly heaped ; 
As those broad barns that were his heritage 

Appeared when harvests had been freshly reaped. 

He watched the course of stars, he gaged the tide, 
He noted matter's laws, with care intent ; 

Yet studied not the spirit at his side, 

Nor marked the signs of sorrow imminent. 

His trustful heart, where Bella was adored 

Too truly, too profoundly for remove, 
Was to himself a province unexplored, 

Till anguish cried within to slumbering love. 



58 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

One day his mother sought him in the field 
Apart from all ; fear from her streaming eyes 

Looked forth, as tremblingly her voice revealed 
A :grief, whose stress the sufferer shares, or dies. 



"Alas'! my son, rouse thy poor heart from sleep, 
To shield the honor of thy house from foes, 

See, down yon vale, her tryst not first to keep 
Thy: faithless wife,, with .stealthy footstep goes." 

She ceased, and pointed 'neath a fading bough, 
Down a steep hill-side, where a mounted man 
Leaned from his saddle toward a woman's brow, 
■■■■. As though in speech their hearts commingled ran. 

'Twas Bella's' scarf that in the fickle breeze, 
Touched a strange shoulder in the lone ravine, 

While son and mother through the upland trees 
Gazed like chill statues mutely on the scene. 

Not like swift ripples of a shallow stream 

John's purpose wrought ; but slowly as the wave 

Swells on a wide shore 'neath the moon's sad beam, 
While pallor spread upon his features grave. 



BEN. ,59 

The world's perplexing vast machinery 

Seemed wildly whirled — somehow he must be caught 
Between the shaftings — crushed ? or if 'twas she ? 

Then to the rescue ! coolness ! courage ! thought '! 

*' Hush ! mother, make no sign, this is your hour 
To do us kindness ; for my sake, be still." 

Firmly he turned her back : she took her way, 
And left him silent on the sheaf-strewn hill. 

A half-hour later, at their evening meal 

The three were gathered, Bella cold and white 

Revealing nought her inmost heart might feel, 
Though starting at a passing horseman's flight. 

Then first John saw how wasted was her cheek, 
How self-absorbed and anxious was her air, 

How her lip quivered when she tried to speak, 
As though her mind took hold upon despair. 

The moon was veiled in restless clouds of gloom, 
The mother sought her couch and Bella said: 

"Your problems thrive best in a vacant room, 
I, too, will seek a pillow for my head." 



60 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

John sought the outer air, though wild winds rose 

And roared through woodlands near, and smote his 
frame; 

The long dark watches brought him no repose, 
Nor dawn that surly o'er the mountains came. 

His nature stood aroused in wondering awe 

At its own peril-ravaged wide domain; 
• Cosmos,'* nor * Mecanique Celeste '*j- gave law 

Of guidance to his pressed and wavering brain. 

Life's ground seemed rent before him; what soul-skill 
Should viaduct the chasm before his feet, 

Or smooth the jutting crags, the valleys fill, 

And plant the slighted blossoms~once so sweet ? 

Self's tactics can not fully engineer 

Paths for a man's heart o'er a cleft like this: 

As Roebling'sJ art his causeway could not rear, 
Save as a wife's eyes kept their watch with his. 

How dark the mountain-passes ! sudden lowers 
The thundering cloud, while on my poet's brow 

• *Humbolt's " Cosmos " 
fLa Place's Mecanique Celeste. 

JThe wife of Engineer Roebling assisted him in carrying forward his grand plans of the 
" Brooklyn Bridge." 



BEN. 6 1 

Lowers the deep shadow of his reverie, 
Through a still moment. 

Then he wrings my hand, 
Starts up, shoots down at me one falcon glance, 
Cries "Tom! you'll seek me at my highland lair 
A mile due east, by yonder forest road," 
And plunges swiftly downward and away. 

To westward, leaning on my sturdy stick, 
I hasten mindful of the sounding skies. 



CANTO VI. 

EMPIRES IN THE SKY. 

WEARY I reached the sheltering halls where swarmed 
My fellow guests. 

Soon thence with awe we watched 
Forked lightning blades cleaving the roaring skies. 

Hushed by the terrors of the storm, each soul 
Within itself interpreted its voice. 

Near me, on a low seat, a mother cowered, 
With three bright little ones about her knees. 
Her beauteous eyes uplifted in alarm 
Betrayed a Romance lineage; her hands 
Burdened with glittering circlets, clasped a cross, 
Whence rubies shot forth their mysterious fires. 

While rapid bolts pealed loudest, as from shock 

Of planets shattered into asteroids, 

She moaned petitions in the Portuguese. 



EMPIRES /A THE SK\. 63 

This was a high-born lady of Brazil. 

Her husband honored by that government, 

A leader of its commerce on high seas, 

Was of New England blood, reared on the coast 

Where Pilgrim feet first rested from long flight. 

Our guests called her the " Dona," with round eyes 

Watching her movements, though in shy constraint; 

Save that some few had ventured, now and then, 

To seek her notice, bowing as she passed, 

Saying "Good Morning, Princess! " or "Good Night!" 

And tendering compliments, or converse kind. 

Among these was a singer of fond lays, 

With tenor voice, a slim and dainty man, 

Who used to overtake her in her walk, 

Or lend his hand upon the stairs — a Don, 

'Twas said, with proud estates in Spain-. ■*-• 

She heeded none on that tempestuous eve, 
Till all the trumpets of the clouds were still. 

Then saw we vapor pictures in the sky. 

First darkly spreading, with huge outlines dim, 

Suggesting structures of Antiquity. 



64 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Vast pyramids appeared, and pylons broad 
Guarded by sphinxes, hinted Egypt's fanes. 

Some seraph Watt seemed with his brush unseen 

To symbol Karnak on the gloomy vault, 

Then blotting this design, to trace towered walls 

With gates of bronze, where winged lions crouched. 

Gardens were seen o'erhanging palace-walls; 

Rich Babel grandeur flashed an instant forth, 

Looming in purple vistas vague and far, 

Till melted in a sea of flame and blood. 

O'er this was spread a haze of tender tinU,,. 

Then Tyrian galleys seemed to toss on waves, 

And wreck themselves against a lofty coast, 

Where lifted on a stately portico, 

Athena's image gleamed, and lessening heights 

With temples, forums, theatres, were crowned. 

Swiftly this shadowy classic scene dissolved 
To vaporous elements, whence rolled to shape 
The likeness of Rome's eagle huge, whose wings 
Hovered o'er porches grand, high capitols, 
And amphitheatres, that, while we gazed, 
Broke into floating arches pearly white, 
Within whose vista seemed a feathered throne 
Glittering to symbolize the Mogul power 
Dissolving. 



EMPIRES IN THE SKY. 65 

Next a dragon-head glared forth 
Beneath a seven-roofed shrine, that toppling merged 
Into a proud pagoda glistering 
With crests of gold; this moving into shade, 
Left for an instant's glance a dreamy mosque 
With crescents shining over minarets. 

Then were the scattered vapors fused and blent 
Into one cloud, that with strong impetus 
Advanced to meet a brightness from the west 
Breaking, till all its colors were suffused 
In that new glory flooding earth and skies. 

Nor rose succeeding cloud-types on our sight 
Emblazoning the heavens with empire-signs; 
Nor marked I how the last fair beams declined, 
Till day had passed to dawn on orient climes. 
Long musing I recalled the chronicels 
Of fallen empires mighty in their prime; 
And present realms now shaken to their depths 
Reviewed, discerning, amid baseless shapes, 
Pillars well-grounded in eternal Right 
Now here, now there, rising amid wrecked wrongs, 
With capitals glowing in beams of Truth. 
Hailing these tokens that our living Christ 



66 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Bears on His shoulder still Dominion's key, 

And resting on His word of promise sure — 

" I come again," my soul swelled with a joy 

Deeper and nobler than my youth e'er knew , 

Or could have compassed, ere the scope and strength 

Of consciousness enlarged through thoughtful years. 



CANTO VII. 
A VISIT TO THE INVENTOR'S HOME. 

WHEN next I wandered forth, my heart grown young,. 
Impelled my footsteps toward my early friend. 
O'er the broad land, the late September poured 
Its liquid bronze that filtered through tall oaks, 
Maples and elms, upon my lonely path. 
Sometimes an ash contrasted its soft green 
With the dark pines; or poplar's sheeny leaves 
Quivered like ruffles o'er a maiden's heart. 
In the light breeze that swayed no sturdy bough. 
Some autumn colors flecked the full-leaved trees — 
Gold, red, or brown, since now and then, a chill 
Had in the night-hour fallen. 

Round my feet 
Sprang spicy mint, and brake with juicy root 
Sought by the school boy, when his appetite 
Wakens upon the homeward way from school. 

Close on the forest, where a winding road 
Nears a low bridge, that spans a singing brook 



68 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Flowing from upland meadows, on a knoll 

Stood a plain school-house, whence young voices rose 

Mingling their tune with the stream's melody. 

The singing waters chanted toward the sea; 

But toward eternity the children sang. 

I paused to listen at the open door, 

And saw — a bright-haired wood-nymph ? Ah! 

A gentle teacher with small hand upraised 

To guide the measures. 

With ingenuous smile, 
To my obeisance low she bowed reponse; 
When hark! the music nagged, and each small head 
Golden or brown was toward the stranger turned, 
And curious all surveyed me. 

So I fled, 
Leaving the fair young ruler to restore 
The harmonies of her distracted realm, 
Yet murmuring with myself "A pretty guide! 
But have her girlish powers the master-grasp 
For tasks so grave as to start human thought 
On its life quests, equip mind for Time's wars, 
Curb the expanding will ? Can this wood-nympth, 
Do such exploits ? " 



A VISIT TO THE INVENTORS HOME. 69 

Viewing the scalloped prints 
Of little feet impressed upon my path, 
I felt; a rising dread for youthful lives 
So soon to meet the rush of perilous years, 
Till by the wayside wall of boulders brown, 
Astor and golden-rod, red cardinal flower, 
And clustering sumac laughed upon my care; 
While starry-mayweed from the narrow strips 
Of turf between the tracks of wheels illumed 
My trust in Him who bade it shine just there, 
Who taught the locust sound, the bee her skill, 
Gave to the toad clear vision and quaint mien, 
Commissioned bright-winged birds and butterflies 
To glitter o'er me through the wholesome air; 
Yea, whose deep wisdom taught the very ant 
Art, order, and affection for its kind. 

A carriage dashing o'er the rustic bridge, 
A glimpse of silver trappings, two swift bays, 
Bright liveries, and the Dona's flashing eyes ! 
Beside her sat her husband, with blonde locks 
And russet beard, a tall and stalwart man, 
Who to their little ones around them grouped, 
Pointed the features of the rural scene. 

Dust rose along the highway, as they passed, 
Its slight, thin column strangely glorified, 



7 o BEN'S ISABELLA. 

When the sun smote it in an open place, 
Where meadow-lands spread out beyond the wood. 
If sunshine thus transmutes the lowly soil, 
Why doubt of spirtual alchemies ? 

I saw the carriage slowly climb the hill 
Crowned by the mansion of my early friend, 
The famed Inventor, and beyond the gate 
Vanish, some moments ere I gained the slope, 
And, aided by my staff, trod joyfully 
A smooth broad Walk that led me to the porch, 
Here standing in his doorway, with a shout 
Of hearty fellowship; Ben greeted me. 

The house o'ershaplowed by two giant elms, 
Was partly fashioned in colonial days, 
By a wise Pilgrim of Will Brewster's sort, 
Who loved ideas above display or mirth. 
From sire to son it fell, till the brave heir 
In' freedom's contest fell at Bennington. 
His grandson and great grandson led pure lives 
On the home-acres herited by Ben-^- 
Rich cultured acres spreading on all sides 
About the house, which each successive heir 
Had amplified, while stirring not a stone 
Of first foundations. 



A VISIT TO THE INVENTOR'S HOME. 71 

■ 
On the corner blocks 

And central chimmey-tower was graved the date 

Of founding, and within, on cross-beams broad 

And mantle-frames of solid oak were carved 

The name ancestral, rimmed with oaken leaves. 

At first we sat within the jasmined porch, 

I spoke of the fair Dona, told the tale 

Of her far birth and union with a man '"*• Jf* 

Of Massachusetts noted for his deeds 

Of enterprising commerce in south seas, 

Their name repeating in the garrulous style 

Of age. 

"I saw them as they passed," said Ben; 
"And now I think upon it, I recall 
The man — a native of the Plymouth coast, 
James Dunbar, Philip Dunbar's eldest son. 
I saw him down near Plymouth, ten years back — 
No, nearer twenty, at my sister's home, 
And prophesied for him a strong career. 
This leads my mind back, Tom, to troubled times, 
When these home-lands were mortgaged, and my girl 
Was dwelling with her loving only aunt, 
And teaching village children how to read. 



72 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Young, but wise, she cheered me to achievement, 
Smothering for my sake, the sole sharp grief 
She knew — a mother's loss. 

Now I can call 
This freehold ours; old helpers are returned, 
And my sleek cattle feel no alien's lash. 

But come, and scan with me our household haunts, 
The ancient rooms my fathers framed, and nooks 
But lately added, as our fancies craved." 

We passed together through the square great hall 
Ben called the Summer-room, whence stairs arose 
In varied angles, fenced by railings prim. 
A stately English clock three centuries old 
Ticked at their base. 

A parlor on the right 
Was beamed above,"and wainscoted around, 
A glass-doored buffet filled with china thin 
And rare graced the far corner, and above 
The carven mantle, from a deep recess, 
Brass candlesticks and silver tankards gleamed. 

Across the hall, an ample "keeping-room" 
Invited rest upon its wide arm-chairs, 
Their feet like lion's claws. 



A VISIT TO THE INVENTOR'S HOME. 73 

But on we walked 
Through the long dining-room and buttery large, 
That smelt of richest cream. The kitchen wide, 
In which we peeped, held tables of white boards, 
And shone with tin. 

From its stone chimney-place, 
As from a cavern, smiled a dusky maid, 
In shy and curious surprise. She hung 
A chain of corn-ears joined by braided husks, 
On pegs for drying in that warm recess. 
A swarthy matron from an oven arched 
Within the wall beside the chimney, took 
With holders gay, a steaming loaf of brown. 
A dark male servant at a sounding churn 
Turned toward my host a glance of fond respect. 
Each won from Ben a brief approving word, 
Ere we went on into a bright-hued room 
Within a modern portion of the house, 
That seemed to speak some cheerful presence near — 
Or was it that the flowers from field and bed 
Clustered upon the window ledges, breathed 
In subtle fragrance such a pleasing hint ? 

Ben smiled to see my questions in my face, 
And might have answered, but such chatter rose 



74 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Above us, as at first precluded speech, 
Then merged into coherent utterance 
That half betrayed the secret of the room. 
A brilliant parrot from his cage high hung 
Amid fresh blooming plants shrilled cheerily 
" Good morning, Isabella ! Papa ! Sir !" 

Glancing at various pictures on the walls 

And some unhung, fresh from their painter's brush, 

I cried " A studio ! " 

"Yes and boudoir," 
My dear host said, " I may as well admit — 
I'm somewhat proud to have an artist child. 
Here near this window hangs her likeness, Tom, 
Beside her mother's; here's her violin, 
That's wont to feel the motion of her soul 
Thrill from her hand along its answering chords. 
And here's her light guitar, companion oft 
Of woodland wandering, when she takes it forth, 
And to its strains, by lake, or rock, or stream, 
Sings tender ballads learned in childhood's days. 
She's sketching- somewhere now among- the hills. 

Sometime, when feeling suits her and your will, 
She'll sing you gentle songs her mother sang. 



A VISIT TO THE INVENTOR'S HOME. 75 

My child loves, too, the grand old music, Tom, 
That moved our souls in youth, which has rung on 
From voice to voice, since Mozart caught the pitch 
From Asaph's choir, and Handel, Haydn, Bach, 
Swelled the world's scores with harmonies that lead 
The reverent spirit captive through the depths 
Of holy awe, or bear it up the heights 
Of praise, to catch the themes of seraphim. 

And now come with me up these winding-stairs 

Of this new tower o'erlooking many a mile. 

Here is my workshop; here you see my books 

And instruments, and tokens of success 

Attained by pioneering some hairs' breaths 

In the advance of others, who, like me, 

Sent forth conjectures to pre-empt new fields 

In Law's domains, where use may take on wheels, 

Relieving human shoulders from old loads." 

I had pursued him rather haltingly 
In step and hearing, since I gained a glance 
At those fair portraits in his daughter's room — 
Her mother's and her own. 

Deep tenderness, 
With calm and thoughtful earnestness suffused 



7 6 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

In quiet gladness, in the former seemed 
To blend their quality with some past view 
Of features in the second picture traced. 
Some strong impression played coquettishly 
With memory, refusing to be won. 

At length, o'ercoming my abstraction, glad 
At heart for all the blessings of my friend, 
I freely quaffed the stream of fellowship. 

From a high circling window of the tower, 
He, for my notice, culled the choisest views; 
Then talked of his experiments, and showed 
The use of apparatus intricate, 
Wherewith he hunted nature's secrets down, 
Or led them captive, with a zest more keen 
Than that of sportsman in successful chase. 

" 'Tis a brave sight," I answered, "this array 
Of tools and lore pertaining to a realm 
Whose fruits I taste, but can not cultivate. 
I like to witness how you hold the plow, 
And sow, or reap on scientific fields. 
But now I'm sentimental in my mood, 
And want a love tale. 



A VISIT TO THE INVENTOR'S HOME. 77 

Tell me more, I pray, 
Of "John the sturdy farmer" and his bride, 
And how the problem of his heart was solved. 
Found he in its solution peace or woe ? " 



CANTO VIII. 



BEN CONCLUDES THE LYRICS OF TUDOR, 
JOHN, AND BELLA. 

THUS pressed, Ben seized the rhythmic warp and 
woof 
He late had woven beneath the mountain oaks, 
But left unselvedged: thereunto he joined 
In new designs of numbers, skeins of thought, 
Whereby the fabric of his web became 
First, Bella's answer to her husband's prayer 
For her full confidence; then John's response, 
And Tudor's parting witness and farewell. 

BELLA, JOHN, AND TUDOR. 

John's life wore on in wretchedness and fear, 
And Bella made no sign of peace or cheer. 
Slow, silent, sad she moved from room to room, 
Through days wherein the skies were wrapped in gloom. 
But once when sunbeams broke through clouds of storm, 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 79 

And mount and valley in their smile grew warm, 
They saw her wand'ring toward the trysting glen. 
Late thence with wavering steps she came. 

'Twas then, 
Though crushed with ceaseless agony, John strove 
To burst her bondage by the might of love, 
And share her care, from whate'er source it came, 
Whether distrust, infirmity, or blame. 
"Tell me thy grief, my only love, my bride, 
Fear not thy burden fully to confide; 
Though weakness, trial, even fault be thine, 
No heart can yield thee pity more than mine." 
She shrank a moment, at his words amazed, 
A moment on his grief-worn features gazed. 
Then o'er her marble face a rosy flush 
Stole tenderly, and tears began to gush. 
Long time they flowed, but when her sobs had rest, 
Without reserve her burden she confessed. 

BELLA TO JOHN. 

Strong is thine hand on my own; but thy voice has its 
tremor; 

Wells are thine eyes, though I once deemed them shal- 
low of feeling, 

Lonely I came to the glen, not for Tudor — that's ended. 



80 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Tudor has long tryst with Death, in the house of his 
kindred, 

Yonder its white gable gleams through the trees of the 
roadside. 

Now as thy footstep approached, and thy voice smote 
my sad ear, 

Bidding me speak of my ways, I divined in a thought- 
flash, 

"Some one has peered out my steps in the weeks that 
are closing, 

Some one has mingled a potion of gall for thy drinking." 

Fury arose in my bosom, where bitterness rankly 

Grew in the spaces thy care had neglected to nurture. 

Fury, the serpent sprang forth from the weeds of 
resentment. 

Lo, thou hast smitten him low, with love's lightning 
outglancing 

From brows where I deemed that for me were storm- 
bolts of thunder. 

Yes, I will lay at thine ear all my secret; it may be 
Rest, long a stranger will steal to my side, for a season. 

Mine is a nature that bounds with full strength to 
decision: 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 81 

Having misjudged my young lover, I harshly renounced 

him. 
Mine is a conscience that clings to its bond, though that 

slay me: 
Having wed thee, my will ever was loyal to thee, John: 
Having met only neglect, I esteemed thee unloving. 

Thou wert a sage self-possessed; I a pride-wounded 

woman, 
Thus once at nightfall I strayed in the graveyard of 

Delia, 
Musing how neither the loves, nor the griefs of the 

sleepers 
Roused their swift heart beats again — hark ! a step, it 

was Tudor's. 
Wan was his cheek with disease — 'twas but hectic that 

flushed it, 
Trembling had seized on my frame, at the stroke of his 

presence. 
Now came a funeral train bearing mourners and gossips. 
" Meet me," he whispered in pleading and hoarse words, 

"just once more, 
When the moon shines, in the vale by the cliff near the 

willows. 
I have a story to tell, ere I die, and a favor 



82 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Meet for thine ear and thy granting, though thou art 
another's." 



Swiftly he vanished, his plea roused my heart to repent- 
ance. 

What if my error had slain him ? I felt as one dying 

Bearing blood-guilt on my soul, without peace of remis- 
sion. 

Eager I rushed by the moon, to the glen of the willows. 

There as a priest Tudor stood, stayed my life, that had 
parted 

Under his blame, with the healing of frank words of 
pardon. 

Balm for his hurt there was none, though he came, at my 
asking, 

Twice to the vale by the cliff, where I strove with wise 
counsels, 

E'en at the borders of death, to set purpose before him. 

Idle my task. At last parting, life's tide drops were 
oozing 

Forth from his lips. He lies low in the house of his kin- 
dred. 

Woe that for him Time is all, with its idols and shadows! 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 83 

Woe that for him the death-shades are the shroud of 

the spirit ! 
Shone there not through my pain's gloom, stars of mercy 

eternal, 
Sending their rays from beyond, I had perished in silence. 
So have I broken the seal of my sorrows and Tudor's. 



"Thanks for these pages, Ben, that, like bright 

blades, 
Sever suspicion from your heroine's fame. 
And still you leave me eager; tell, I pray, 
What said the husband to the candid wife. 
Did jealousy possess him, like a fiend ? 
'Tis strange how these creations of your muse 
Flit in my brain among true histories, 
Perplexing consciousness with likenesses 
And hints, till she grows ready to accept 
Their shapes as substance. Added elements 
May by thought's alchemy resolve my doubts 
To clear perceptions. Let me listen on." 

The white leaves quivered in the poet's hand, 
And o'er and o'er he turned them for awhile; 
Then read the husband's answer to the wife. 



8 4 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

JOHN TO BELLA. 

Thy sorrow be mine, and thy burden, 
Earth has not for me joy or guerdon 

Remote in my purpose from thee. 
Thy heart is a citadel shaken; 
Admit me, it ne'er shall be taken, 

Thy husband its safety shall be. 

For this, this alone, be my chiding, 
That thou didst withhold thy confiding; 

Thy husband alas ! is no seer. 
He failed, for his insight is human — 
To read the deep soul of a woman; 

Forgive him, as he forgives, dear. 

If sadness nor danger were near thee, 
What merit to shield, or to cheer thee, 

Or hear thy glad songs with delight ? 
To sigh with thy sighing were better, 
To rend from thy soul every fetter, 

And gird thy true purpose with might. 

The love of thy girlhood is dying, 
Thou weepest, repress not thy sighing, 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 85 

Less tender, less lovely thou wert; 
My heart lately torn, comprehending 
All anguish, shrinks not from befriending 

A brother, whatever his hurt. 

Lead me, then, where Tudor is lying, 
I go to the bed of the dying, 

My vigil to keep at thy side. 
Haste we to illumine with kindness 
The way he is passing in blindness — 

We three in one furnace are tried. 



My poet pausing, from my heart surcharged 
Flowed approbation for his hero's part. 
"Alas! " I cried, "that husbands are so few 
Who, like your John, are wise to apprehend 
And zealous to prescribe for ills of heart, 
Though skilled toward lesser maladies, in those 
To whom they promised comfort till death's hour. 
Griefs cankering to despair might oft find cure, 
If beams of loving candor o'er them fell. 
Shame on that heart of man which nurses hate, 
Nor risks a wound, that it may foil a dart, 
Or break a spell against home's priceless peace. 
Your scholar, Ben, found no such recompense 



86 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Attendant on his algebra, I ween, 

As when he solved that unknown quantity 

That formulated a wife's deepest grief. 

I prophesy the sequel of your song, 

Was growing happiness and lasting love. 

I wait your closing stanzas with charmed ears. 

Shades lengthened o'er the hills. Ah! day by day, 
The heavens and earth in changing hues and shapes 
Befit the changing story of man's life. 
No scene remains, but flits or glides apace, 
While frail humanity acts out its plot. 

The part of Tudor seemed to suit the shade 
Of the great evening curtain as it fell, 
While Ben invoked his image, as he told 
The dying chant of Tudor to his friends. 



TUDOR TO HIS FRIENDS. 

Hark! gentle friends, the tolling burial knell 
Will echo soon for me a last farewell. 
Yet first, my weakening accents would confess 
My strengthening joy, my growing thankfulness. 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 87 

Mirth ruled my careless mind in earlier days, 
Things near and glittering filled my eager gaze; 
Till love awoke to prove my spirit's might 
To feel. 

One rapid summer of delight 
And one long year of anguish made me great 
In knowledge of man's saddened human state. 
The potency of feeling over clay, 
And that we live or perish from its sway, 
I learned, nor deemed the learning worth my test, 
To solve one doubt remained the only quest 
That promised slightest solace for my mood, 
What if she never truly understood ? 
I'd know the truth from her who once made heaven. 
I gained my quest, forgave, and was forgiven, 
Then murmuring at the mystery of breath, 
Sank helpless toward the mystery of death. 

John came — the "gift of God," and witness bore 
To fadeless hopes by me undreamed before. 
The constant shining of his spirit shed 
No transient sparks self-kindled round my bed. 

Skilled, through my stern experience, to prove 
The source and elements of earthly love, 



88 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

I traced his motives toward an origin 
More high and strong than I could find within 
My cold proud soul, that, as a prism, caught 
Their halcyon rays to analyse in thought. 
Faith, reconcilement, patience, love were shown 
Rays from a sphere high as creation's throne. 

I yearned in me such heaven-shed peace to feel, 

Till from the Sun of Truth it fell, to heal. 

As John, the herald of Messiah — " God's grace, 

In deserts showed th' Anointed to his race; 

So to my soul that knew no helper near, 

This John has made its Light, the Christ appear. 

Grieve not that once I suffered, thus to know 
The noblest friendship man can share below; 
Grieve not to see this outward death begin, 
For Christ, the hidden Life expands within. 

"Thus ended Tudor's witness, as his soul 
Set forth exultant on the wings of hope. 
His mourners laid the empty clay to rest 
'Mid Delia's graves, and sang a song of Heaven — 
That higher Heaven, whose beams thenceforth have 
seemed 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 89 

T' infuse the visible skies above that place, 

While there the soft-robed songsters of the groves 

Sing not of mortal, but eternal Love, 

To us who visit Tudor' s grave — and hers." 



"Ah! Ben, say not that Bella wept out life 
Because of anguish — " 

Gently answered Ben, 
While his eyes sought the first clear evening star, 
"No, not from grief she died; though life was brief, 
'Twas deeply joyful. 

John, by Tudor taught 
Love's language and in heart-philosophy 
Grown wise through suffering witnessed and endured, 
Wooed his wife's spirit, tamed its fancies coy, 
And made his proud plans to her intellect 
Pay tribute of respectful confidence. 
Call it not condescension that he stayed 
Invention on its chafing, eager wing, 
Till she was ready to speed on the flight. 
Her counsel and perception keen were lent 
To his instructed energy, whose power 
Sustained her timid thought in giving forth 
Suggestion, grace, embellishment to his. 



9 o BEN'S ISABELLA. 

How rich was their communion! how love filled 
Their home with gladness, and their mother's heart 
With peace whose light was as the mellow beams 
That flood fair harvest days ! 

Those happy hours 
Alas ! how brief, when having to their arms 
Clasped a new life called by the sacred name 
Of Daughter, they beheld it day by day 
Unfold in mind and stature. 

Ere this bud 
Expanded in youth's fulness, sudden drooped 
The mother-roses, one by frosts of Age 
Lightly but surely smitten, one by touch 
Of some mysterious agent, cast to earth. 
Since then, a score of sober years have gone." 

"This latest flower still sheds upon John's home 
Its influence, let me hope. For scarce I deem 
You paint an idle myth." 

"Then know," said Ben, 
"This daughter lives and of the long-lost wife 
John sees in her the image, hears the tones 
Repeated amid scenes they once made glad. 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 91 

'Twas by fresh springs of filial love revived, 
His fainting courage took on strength anew, 
And 'twas a daughter's zealous thought prepared 
By youthful discipline, that trained and warmed 
His spreading aspirations, till they bore 
The ripened clusters of assured success. 

Here rests the story — lay it on the shelf 
Among your odd collections, to be bound 
And numbered later, should you chance to find 
Its full relations, and the place it fits. 
Yet first set these notations at its close: 
Solos are good in music, when one soul 
Sings forth to others what it solely feels; 
But for high themes touching the general hopes 
And grand advances of Humanity, 
And for full worship and adoring praise, 
All clefs must blend. 

The bass, though deep and strong, 
Is not enough; it lacks the power to soar. 
You comprehend ? 

I mean, dear Tom, we men 
In great attempts, need woman at our side. 
In all the world's uplifting and reforms, 



92 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Her part is vital. For Time's triumph chants 
We want sopranos, every part indeed — 
Altos and tenors helping. 

Hark ! my child — 
She must have entered, and beguiles the hour, 
Thinking me absent. 

From this window lean. 
She's on the lower balcony, we'll catch 
Her tones that float on evening's quiet breath ! 



THE DAUGHTER'S SONG. 
DEPARTED. 

Forth in the pure twilight air I wander lone and in sad- 
ness, 

Desolate are my steps toward the marge of the once 
glad river; 

Charming no more to my soul are now the visions of 
nature. 

Thou, who wast light to my heart ! art thou departed 
forever, 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 93 

Leaving my life gloom-veiled, that bliss may illumine 

another ? 
Seemeth the river-wave to sing me a sorrowful sonnet. 

Seemeth an evening bird concealed in yon evergreen 

branches, 
Reading my secret woe, the dream of no human diviner, 
Sudden, in one wild strain, to sing thee departed forever. 



We listened till the clear sweet minor tones 
Were silent, then' we rose and grouped our way 
Along the stairs and hall-way to the room 
Where supper waited. 

"You must tarry, Tom, 
Till Lord's day morning, in whose hallowed beams 
We'll go to worship at our woodland church," 
Ben said, ere from the hall his queenly child 
Received us. 

As he placed her hand in mine, 
And called her Isabella, I was stilled, 
And fell to musing. 

Not till thanks were said, 
And the brown damsel of the chimney-place, 



94 



BEN'S ISABELLA. 



She who had hung the corn-ears in our sight, 
Had carved the Indian loaf, and heaped our plates 
With steaming food leguminous, well-flanked 
With savory salad, could my brain discern 
That all around was but a real scene, 
And not a vision. 

I was blithe to see 
Susan, the wood-nympth of the rural school 
Before me face to face, a "frequent guest 
And friend congenial" of my hostess fair, 
They told me. 



Soon we ancients merrily 
Bandied our playful speeches, till our talk 
Took on solidity. There was no need 
For vapid chatterings. Isabella chose 
Her questions wisely, and the younger girl 
Naive, artless, reverent, the grace betrayed 
Of a rare nature eager to be taught, 
Intuitive of wisdom, and of taste 
Unspoiled and delicate. Each maiden seemed 
The other's complement. The elder one 
In dignity and knowledge, as in height 
Of frame excelled; Susan still bore the charm 
Of early youth, its winsomeness, its glee. 



TUDOR, JOHN, AND BELLA. 95 

Some tales of college seasons were recalled 

Above our fragrant cups of guileless cheer, 

And toasts proposed were pledged in sparkling draughts 

From mountain-springs, where-at the host enquired 

" Perchance, friend Tom, you miss the vineyard's blood 

Frenzied to wine ? But 'tis debarred our board. 

We yield that privilege of luxury 

For higher privilege to take away 

Occasion of offence from wavering souls." 

Joyous I answered, "Friends, I am not bound 
To wine's indulgence, nor to somnial fumes 
Nicotian; ye have taken not my gods 
In your denials. Proud am I to see 
This home-tent pitched within the promised land 
Of freedom from those idol-thralls of sense, — 
The land whose borders have begun to rise 
Before our trammelled race, a land where Mind 
Makes Appetite the servant of the brain." 
" Pledge to the gallant champion of home's peace 
And native clime's new freedom! " Bella cried, 
And the clear bell-toned glasses rang accord 
To silvery maiden laughter innocent. 

At close of our repast, to Ben I spoke — 

"I've found some views from life to suit the tale 



96 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

We know of, and a niche the volume fits." 
A swift ray glinted from his deep-browed eyes 
Toward his fair daughter, as he shyly said, 
"Then bind the pictures with the humble leaves, 
And set the book amid memorial tomes. 
I trust the volume will be strongly clasped." 
"You gave the keeping of the leaves to me," 
I cried; "then ask not to control their clasps, 
There may be that among them that shall serve 
And gladden loving eyes in years to come, 
I will translate your silence, spite your frown, 
As saying, I will trust your conscience, Tom." 



CANTO IX. 
AFTER THE MISTS. 

THAT night the rustling boughs stirred by fresh gales. 
Whispered a thousand fancies to my brain. 
Again I saw my Benjamin in youth 
Wave cheerily at Alma Mater's gates 
The parting hand; then saw him culturing 
His natal fields; or bent with arduous thought; 
Or lifting his wide brow when o'er it stole 
Gleams of Invention's triumphs. 

I recalled 
His gentle songs, — did they not signify 
The story of his life ? Was he not John ? 
Did not his Isabella bear the name 
And sing the melodies to Delia's groves 
Familiar, where her mother lived and loved, 
Whom Tudor wooed as maid, and Ben espoused ? 

How thin his riddles proved by morning light ! 
And ah ! the child of love refined by pain, 



9 8 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Who welcomed us at early time of prayer, 
In full and beauteous maiden-womanhood — 
Was one the secret of whose heart surprised 
My idle consciousness, long seasons gone, 
On Plymouth coast, where a wood meets the sea. 
Her eyes, whose tender luster shines serene 
As planet's from sky-depths, once unawares 
Transfixed mine with their glitter of despair, 
What time they turned from an out-sailing ship 
Fast gliding o'er the far horizon's bound ! 
Her soul, a fount of worship new and praise, 
Had hidden its anguish, like a wounded dove, 
That pierced mid joyous flight by wanton dart, 
Flutters in quivering silence down the sky, 
To hide its torn breast 'neath a covert sedge. 

Oft had I wondered if that girl-dove's hurt 

Was unto death, or if inherent strength 

Had re-inforced her heart; if balm of hope 

Had healed the breast that might ne'er lose its scar. 

Now after years, she wears no lover's name, 

Yet melancholy shades not eye or brow, 

Nor dims reflectively her father's smile. 

But there was pathos in her voice that filled 
The woodland chapel, or melodious soared 



AFTER THE MISTS. 99 

Amid its arches framed of forest boughs; 

While Ben's deft fingers ruled the organ's breath, 

And the fresh voices of a hamlet choir 

Sang the full chorus: "Christ the conqueror, lives." 



The morning lessons ended, notes of praise 

Pealed forth again — deep basso, tenor sweet, 

Rich alto, and our clear soprano sang 

Of God's high sovereign glory; and this theme 

Rang in our spirits through the soft, low prayer 

Of benediction, and seemed e'en to fill 

The woods and skies around our homeward path. 



HAIL SOVEREIGNTY DIVINE. 

HYMN. 

Hail Sovereignty Divine! whose glory's blaze 

To blindness smites the proud revolted gaze; 

Or, seen through doubt's refracting lurid mist, 
Is a destroying fire, whence terrors dart — 
With sight made clear to see Thee as Thou art, 

We hail Thy truth and might, by which all things consist. 



ioo BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Hail, Sovereign Will! that mindest to make free 
A race, self-bound, and lift them up to Thee, 
Thou art Earth's Rest, and Heaven's immortal Theme, 
From Thee discentred, thoughts to chaos tend, 
Thou art Law's origin, support, and end, 
Hail, Sovereign Will! Hail, Mind of Love supreme! 



CANTO X. 



DONA AND ISABELLA BY THE LAKE. 

WHILE autumn smiling wore her festal robes, 
Often I traced the paths to Ben's abode. 
Was he ensconced 'mid books and instruments, 
With Science tete-a-tete, soliciting 
Her confidence, as favorite preferred, 
I sent no greeting to his airy shop. 

Yet seldom were my footsteps soon returned, 
Since Isabella would invite my stay 
To share the noon-repast. 

Her father then 
Would join us, and, at times, propose with me 
To take a mountain-ramble, till the dusk. 

Ere noon the freedom of the library 
Was mine with all its treasuries, its store 
Of influence magnetic from charged brains 
Evolved t' invigorate the faculties, 



102 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Or with volts of strong thought to stimulate 
Convictions. 

Isabella oft would say 
"Our house demands the grace of silvery locks, 
And friendly feet make echoes sweet to hear." 

Sometimes, bearing her easel and guitar, 

I walked beside her to a lakelet's beach, 

Making the timid wildfowl swiftly dart 

Toward their green shelters, as we took our seats 

On logs or mossy boulders, thence to scan 

Some scene for copy, and to greet the sound 

Of Susan's light step, when, the school-work done, 

She, too, might come. 

Perchance we three then climbed 
By a steep pathway, to a rugged peak 
That overlooked the village of my inn. 
There Isabella sketched a farm-house red 
And woman at the well-sweep by its door 
Gazing, with eyes hand-shaded from the sun, 
Adown the rustic lane, as if in hope 
A guest drew near. 

She most loved scenes 
Where human life has part, saying: " For me 



DONA AND ISABELLA BY THE LAKE. 103 

A picture lacks completeness, wherein nought 
Seems conscious of existence. I'd depict 
Some fellow-being 'mid my rocks and trees; 
Or, at the least, set some brute creature there, 
Or give my skies a flying bird or two." 

One day we sat beside the lake. She sketched, 
While I discoursed of young days spent with Ben — 
A theme that ever yielded joy to both. 
Lo! from a leafy copse emerged a pair 
Ten yards at right — a tall and slender man, 
A dark-eyed woman with rich beauty dowered; 
James Dunbar's wife, and the slim Tenor they. 
Scarce granting us the notice of a glance, 
They lightly sprang upon a tiny skiff, 
And shot far outward o'er the placid flood. 

"Pray, Guardian Mentor!" Isabella cried — 

For thus she styled her venerable knight — 

" Know you these favoring mortals hasting forth 

To fill a void that made my picture poor ? 

See now ! they rest their oars, and see, I mark 

Their outlines midway of my canvass." 

Hark! 
Swift footsteps, clamoring childish tongues " Mamma ! 



io4 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Come back, Mamma ! " And as soft echoes cry 
" Come back, Mamma ! " six little feet impress 
The clayey beach, six chubby arms are waved 
Toward the gay boatlet, and the Dona's voice 
Ripples in silvery laughter toward the shore; 

"Ho! Lucia, Jamie, Philip, I go home, 

I sail afar to beautiful Brazil." 

But when the children shrieked and sobbed aloud, 

" Mamma ! Mamma ! O do not go away — 

We'll be Brazilians, we will all be good " — 

"I come, my children " rang the Dona's voice 

Sweet as a song-bird's of Castilian groves. 

The boatlet glided swiftly to the strand, 

Where the bright matron kissed each tear-stained cheek, 

Till rainbow smiles succeeded stormy tears. 

The storm retiring sought the Tenor's brow, 

As moodily he cast him on the beach 

To wait the " Princess's " pleasure. 

She was fain 
To gaze on Isabella shyly with amaze, 
Admiring her fine stature, chiselled brows, 
And speaking eyes, that with a wondrous light 
Fell on young James, the Dona's eldest boy, 



DONA AND ISABELLA BY THE LAKE. 105 

Whose name, whose eyes of blue, and sunny locks 
Were all paternal copies. 

"I am James," 
He said, as Bella rose to greet the group, 
41 And this is Philip; this is Baby Lu — 
Such little things ! But I am tall and eight ! 
This is Mamma: my Papa's name is James — 
James Dunbar. He has such great boats at sea ! " 

Dear Isabella ! now had come thine hour 
Of comprehension full. In the fair prime 
Of thy life's morning, thou didst feel the touch 
Cold, hard, and deathly of the unyielding Nay 
Of thine existence stealing round thy heart; 
And now it meets thee at thy rising noon, 
With mocking smiles defiant. 

Hast thou proved 
A Yea whose strength and worth are grand enough 
To match this Nay and thy heart's peace defend ? 

Where stands thy Yea ? Not in thy hoary knight 
Already glancing toward the western heavens, 
To question as an hireling of day's end. 
Thy father ? Canst thou set his closing days 



106 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Against these children's years, his autumn's rays 
Against a long bright summer fellowship ? 

My own heart-scars seemed opening, as I saw 
The pallor steal o'er Isabella's cheek. 
Rising, I took her quivering hand in mine, 
And forced my cleaving tongue to spare her own, 
By speaking for her. 

Was not I alone 
The sharer of her heart's deep mystery? 
Perhaps her shielding Angel had decreed 
To lead me toward her in her crucial hours. 

There have been secret burials where men stood 
By those who in their anguish dared not sigh — 
Stood with averted look and mirthful eye, 
Though trembling with unuttered sympathy. 
Thus I stood veiling Isabella's part 
With flimsy curtains of fantastic speech, 
Till she had stilled her heart-throbs, ruled her tones; 
Aye, curbed, as was her wont, her patient soul. 

" See, Mamma ! pretty picture ! " Philip shouts, 
Brown-curled and roguish, spying Bella's sketch; 
And "Mamma! will'oo make zish mushic shing ?" 



DONA AND ISABELLA BY THE LAKE. 107 

Piped Baby Lucia, dragging from its case 
Bella's guitar. 

The Dona blushing chid 
The babe so like her, with its rosy bloom, 
Pearl teeth, and brilliant eyes. 

One saw how looked 
The rose at budding-stage, and what would be 
The fulness of the bud well-blown, as rose. 

The baby's wish was wisdom to us all. 
Kind Isabella tuned the loosened strings; 
The mother smote them, and with pensive grace, 
Sang tenderly a song of heart and home. 



THE DONA'S SONG. 

Tall are the boughs of stately trees, 
In our South clime of wonder, 

Above them on the mountain-breeze, 
The eagle and the condor 

Float from their eyries far and high, 
Where peaks of Andes hold 



108 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

The first dawn-rays that cheer the sky, 

The eve's last beams of gold; 
Yet jessamines and roses spring 
In gentle vales, where thrushes sing. 

My lover's race sailed forth of yore, 

By unknown seas undaunted, 
Till boldly on the New World's shore, 

Their Lisbon banners flaunted. 
His soul was with like daring led, 

His eyes like zeal expressing, 
On mine Love's spell enchanting shed, 

Their glance his love confessing. 
Alas! they never more unclose, 
He wakes not from his long repose. 

Sweet Lusitanian songs he sang 

Chimed with the Napo's rushing, 
As toward broad Amazon it sprang, 

From crag-born fountains gushing, 
Speeding in swiftness, like the hours 

When Caspar sat beside me 
Mid fragrance rich from balsam bowers- 

Ah! now what woes betide me! 
Where Napo's ceaseless torrent falls, 
Deserted are my Caspar's halls. 



DONA AND ISABELLA BY THE LAKE. 109 

- Chill are the northern everglades 

Where songsters faintly warble, 
And hearts are chiller than their shades, 

Aye, cold and chill as marble. 
My heart is pining for its home, 

For evermore a rover; 
Nor more beneath the starry dome, 

Shall I behold my lover. 
Farewell! ye palms of Napo's dell, 
And, Caspar, vanished love, farewell! 

The baby slept upon her nurse's arm — 
The Spanish nurse, dark Lena, whose soft eyes 
Dropped tears, her lover, mayhap, being dead. 
Jamie and Philip from beside her culled 
Smooth pebbles, James to cast them in the lake, 
Philip to build, he said, "a great, high house." 
Sir Tenor praised the " Princess " and her song 
With melting looks, then stole the dark guitar, 
Thrumming its strings and humming, as to show 
He, too, might sing, 

The Dona lacked the taste 
For tenor, then, she had no eyes, nor ears 
That moment, save for Bella. 

" Sing me, pray, 



no BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Some favorite lay. I have surprise to see 

A Senorita of this northern land 

In open air to sit with her guitar! 

She sings not Love. She sings, I must believe, 

'Tis duty to be wise and read large books. 

My husband is of the New England coast; 

He tells the virtues of his country's wives," 

She gravely spoke, and ended with a sigh. 

Graciously Bella sought the dark guitar, 

And bending closely o'er it said, " I, too, 

Sing oft of Love; I sing my mother's songs. 

You shall hear one that pleased her husband well, 

When tired of clashing wheels, and clanging bars, 

Or voices resonant of rudest force, 

He turned at eve by his home hearth to meet 

His wife's true welcome, and his babe's glad smile." 

THE WAITING WIFE. 

What shall I do, Love, the long, lonely day 

Without thee ? Shall I stray 

With the throng down yon city highway ? 

That were lonely for me; 

For I want to see thee, Love — 

Not crowds, Love, but thee. 



DONA AND ISABELLA BY THE LAKE. nr 



Shall I then stay in this cosy home-nook, 

Oft thy haunt ? Shall I look 

For content, in some favorite book ? 

'Twill not come thence to me; 

For I want to read thee, Love; 

Not books, Love, but thee. 

Strings thou hast tuned shall I wake, and repeat 
Strains I learned at thy feet ? 
Nay; too sad were those melodies sweet 
Chanted only by me. 
"Love, I'd sing but with thee; 
Not alone — but with thee. 

Let the day speed, for its darkness is great, 

Wanting thee, and I wait 

As for light, thine approach, be not late, 

Come at first stars to me. 

O I yearn not for worlds, 

But for thee, Love, for thee. 

Dona's slight jewelled hand concealed her brow; 
^Yet scarcely could a web of sheerest lace 
Absorb the glistening drops she fain would hide. 
But as her group departed, her soft palm 



1 1 2 BEN' S ISABELLA. 

Pressed ours, then resting on her elder boy's, 
Sought not the Tenor's arm. 

"Let me yet hear 
This lovely voice," she cried, "and learn to sing, 
Though weakly, the sweet lays thy mother sang. 
These glades are not so chilly as I dreamed " 



CANTO XL 

AFTER FIVE YEARS. SEEKING SOUL-GEMS. 

JAMES DUNBAR'S STORY. CROESUS 

AND SUSAN. VICTOR'S WORK. 

ABOUT TO REVISIT BEN. 

T^IVE years have sped, since near my world-famed 

-*- friend, 

My broad-brained Ben, I spent mid Hampshire hills, 

A glad September, meeting oft his child, 

The queenly Isabella. 

Since those days, 
From actual scenes each year through wintry months, 
They've studied city life among the poor. 
Dear Benjamin in an o'ercrowded ward 
Of our Metropolis has sought mid men 
The sources of prevailing misery, and means 
For remedy; while Isabel from streets 
Polluted to the eye of sense and soul, 
Has gathered a few scores of little ones, 
And o'er them set the gentlest of her sex 



ii 4 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

To lift them out from squalor and neglect — 
Great Froebel's teachings being guiding lights 
To rule her course. 

These poor unfostered babes 
Stretched gladly toward her their confiding hands, 
And now are taught to note God's handiwork, 
And put their tiny faculties to use. 
Cleanliness, order, gentleness they learn, 
And sense of brotherhood toward all their mates. 

The sun-like sphere teaching of God; the cube — 

Sign of the earth and all things mineral; 

The cylinder — an emblem of all life; — 

Were Froebel's symbol "Gifts," whereby young hands 

May reach, with all the zest of childish play, 

The borders of fair Industry's domains, 

And tender thoughts at infant pace advance 

Within Truth's beams, there to expand toward Heaven, 

Fed duly from the written Word sincere; 

While Music, favorite pastime of the skies, 

Her influence toward life's good beginning lends. 

These "Gifts," these methods were the chosen aids 

Of Isabella, as her infant ranks 

She led along Instruction's flowery paths. 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. 115 

And now when August smiles on Hampshire hills, 
She gives them summer' welcome to Ben's home, 
His heart being warm toward babes. 

Now at my side, 
Upon the table where a few old books — 
Rare fountains whence refreshing streams have sprung 
To lift the heads of those who nobly strive — 
Are handy for my use, her letter lies. 
She writes, my blossom of the ages writes: 
" We're at the old Home, a fine folding-place 
For all my lambs. 

O how they frisk by day 
In our wide fields! and how at feeding-time 
They crowd and caper to obey my call! 
'Tis a strange joy to watch their pretty heads 
Resting at night upon their little cots 
In our quaint chambers, where the gay bouquets 
Upon the paper-hangings seem prepared 
For just this festival of childish bliss. 
Their colors never looked so bright before, 
Perhaps because we shut the sunlight out 
In those long seasons when no child's voice sang 
Through our lone corridors and quiet halls. 

Dear father's grown so gay he's quite a boy 



1 1 6 BEN 1 S ISABELLA. 

Among the children, in their twilight games. 

Sometimes I think he's ceasing to form schemes 

For binding forces of the elements 

In bands material, for the aid of men, 

And studies how to gird the lively powers 

Of young Humanity for progress true, 

And uses pleasing to the Lord of all. 

We have great joy, and every day abounds 

In peace, yet miss our helper and dear friend. 

We wish your counsels farther, having framed 

Your former wise suggestions into deeds." 

I'll go; for now my children home returned 
From August wandr'ings, will supply my place 
To those who from close city tenements 
Watch, wistful for my frequent ministries, 
My sons in public councils, too, will sit, 
And bear our part not meanly in the gate. 

This eve, as from my window I o'erlook 
The stateliest of our city avenues, with park 
Of garden verdure stretching toward the east, 
Where rich and poor may meet, and where the glad 
May gaily rove, the grave retire apart — 
I hear the pattering of countless feet, 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. " 117 

And see keen lights electric mock the stars 
That hang above them. 

Let my eyelids close, 
While Revery brings the scenes that five years since 
Marked the September's close. 

James Dunbar's wife 
Loved Isabella for her gracious mien 
And gift of song, when first beside the lake 
They met, and sang each to one soft guitar. 
Three times his Dona sought the maiden there, 
And found her not. 

Three times I sought Ben's home 
And missed her presence, " She is tired," he said. 

'Twas strange James Dunbar three times crossed my 

path 
Within the forest. Twice he questioned me 
Of the Inventor's daughter skilled in art, 
And sweet in song; then lured me at the last, 
To sit beside him on a grassy slope, 
And scan an Indian arrow he had found. 
Then plucking grass-spires with a nervous hand, 
He talked of failures to be wise in youth, 



1 1 8 BEN' S ISABELLA. 

And murmured he was tired of foreign ways 
And foolish brains. 

I marked his face was lined 
About the brows, and that his frequent laugh 
Lacked the clear ring of hearty merriment. 
"I've won some prizes in my time," said he, 
" And left my rivals sighing in the rear 
When I went racing — there's delight in that, 
'All's fair in love and war' has been my rule." 

I dropped forth altruistic thoughts, to sound 

His nature. They touched bottom speedily. 

" Years since," he told me, " my will wavered much 

Between ambition and that carefulness 

Which turns aside at every feather's point 

Opposed to straight-lined sanctity. 

"Perchance," 
I questioned, "there were those esteemed 
For earnest purpose toward strict rectitude, 
Who lured you toward them on that prudent way 
Which seems, 'tis true, to turn aside from gain, 
Yet in its progress, on a clearer view, 
Tends ever with directness to content." 
" 'Tis true," he cried, "you've strangely touched a string 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. 119 

That vibrates latterly at slightest breath. 

I loved a woman once, or feared I loved, 

Who would have brought my proudest aims to halt, 

Had I not stopped to reckon costs betimes. 

Lately I dreamed — no; I'll be candid, sir — 

I saw her yesterday up yonder crag. 

You see " — and here he laughed — "I learned as boy, 

To trace a song-bird through the densest shades 

That e'er held nests, or on the loftiest boughs, 

And I'd been tracking her day after day." 

" Our Isabella! " this with anger I. 

He laughed again. " Judge not so harshly, sir. 

'Tis over; and I think the woman's mind 

Will prove her kingdom. I quite missed my chance 

Of ruling there. 

I breathed her well-known name, 
And clasped her hand. She reeled and paled, 
Nor spoke a word, till half my tale was told — 
No matter what the import of my speech. 

She needed not to wave me from her side, 
Nor read me o'er with tremulous bloodless lips, 
A lesson on the sanctity of bonds 
Whose hold she's free from; or extol my sons 
And toddling babe above all worldly gifts. 
The woman would persuade me I am walled 



120 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Within an Eden, with my little flock, 

And that 't were treason to send forth one glance 

Beyond its pale, and blasphemy to ask 

Is Life worth living to the best of us. , 

I had not counted to surprise her thus, 

In truth, I missed my wife that morn, and deemed 

She had pursued the singer to her haunts — 

My wife, a foreign lady spoiled by praise, 

A toy I fancied, paying dearest price." 

" A beauteous creature with a heart of worth. 
I've seen her, Captain, with her infant train — 
Rare group! Now bear a word from elder lips, 
This is your hour of power. 

Hold fast your prize — 
A wife's love trembling in the balance now 
'Twixt doubt and trust. Drink pure affection's draughts 
From your home-wells, by tenderness made deep, 
By loyalty defended; like those founts 
Digged by the Hebrews in the chosen land, 
And left to children's children sacredly 
As priceless boons. 

Conjure not vanished dreams 
From the past's tomb. Reality now deals 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. 121 

With thee and thine, and shall demand with force 

Imperative her dues, in waiting years." 

He listened, but with melancholy frown 

Which vexed my heart, that yearning o'er him, strove 

To fathom his resolve. 

" Too late," he said 
While dawned his scornful smile, "too late for me 
To tread those narrow, beaten, ancient paths 
That pleased your youth. 

What have you ever known 
Of grand, aspiring, daring enterprise ? 
I have, Sir, that at stake in old Brazil 
That shall surprise a world, with glory won, 
Can I but make it sure. 

One point attained, 
One little point, and I could find content, 
Were there contentment in a sphere like this — 
Too scant for joy." 

"And if you fail, my son," 
I pleaded, "be no cynic. I may speak 
As a reviewer of men's ways, no doubt; 
It may be, too, from deeper processes 



122 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Of feeling, strife within more passionate, 
And spiritual tumults more confused and wild, 
Than seems potential from your point of thought. 
Be no 'Timon of Athens' indiscreet, 
While free to act as impulse may propose, 
Yet wanting just discrimination; fierce, 
Implacable, when thwarted by constraint, 
And shorn of homage. 

Braver 'tis to bear 
All life's vicissitudes with changeless will, 
Discerning things unchangeable that hide, 
And yet abide above us and around. 
By the intents you cherish estimate 
Your worth, and never reckon lost the act 
Of virtue born, that seemed to miss its goal, 
Weigh not your life by gains exterior. 
Write that Success which reaches usefulnes, 
That Failure, which leaves human welfare less." 

His look was softer, as we turned apart 
To meet not since. 

He sailed from Boston Bay 
Next day, they said, with wife and children three. 
Rumor now runs that from a dizzy height 
Of influence commercial, in the strifes 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. 123 

And tumults of Brazilian state affairs, 
He late was hurled to penury, and fallen 
From rank political, now exiled roves, 
While citizens aver — "He never loved 
Our peace; but trafficked with our liberty." 

Lately I met another who was guest 
At Hampshire, five years since — the man of wealth, 
Whose daughter Victor loved, but Julian base, 
Whom first self-pride, then passion led astray — 
Had snared, and her not sole of maidens fair. 
'Twas in a mart of books I noticed him 
Buying a dozen volumes of huge size, 
And glittering covers. 

By his bristling hair 
Outstanding from his crown, and straight, broad shape, 
I knew the man, who, as he spied me, cried, 
"Halloo! well met, sir! So you are not dead." 
"You, too, my friend," I answered, "cling to life, 
And find it, I hope, happier than when last 
We met high in the Hampshire wilderness." 

"Look, now," he whispered cautiously, "my girl 
Went from us wilful, strong, and beautiful. 
We brought her back a shadow weak and wan, 
To die with broken heart. 



124 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

When our own hearts 
Were breaking — dawn, you know, comes close on night- 
My Ned went floundering in a sea of love 
After the mistress of a country-school, 
A poor girl, but as good as she is fair; 
With sense and wit, although she's scholarly. 
The boy left trifling, married her, and turned 
Again to books. 

'Father,' says she to me, 
* Good books are tables clean, whereon the wise 
Have set well-seasoned wholesome food, or choice 
And nourishing dainties for our hungry minds 
That, unless fed, turn weaklings, or go wild. 
Some minds mayhap find nurture for themselves, 
But most of us — like Ned, here, must have books 
Or living teachers.' 

So I'm buying books 
For these our children — Edward and his bride. 
We change, Sir, in our thinking, now and then." 

■" But will your son seek to digest his lore 
Through exercise of mental food acquired ? 
And will he share his pabulum of thought 
With starving minds ? " I said. 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. 125 

" Talk common sense," 
Laughing he plead, "I don't know Latin yet; 
Though wife and I have started to grow learned 
With listening to our youngsters." 

"Pardon then," 
I answered, "I but ask if they will place 
Their learning to good purpose, and provide 
That some less-favored than themselves may learn." 
"You've hit the nail, Sir, squarely on the head," 
He cried, and clapped my shoulder heartily, 
" But here comes Susan, my son Edward's wife; 
She'll tell you for herself what schemes and plots 
She's laid to trap our pockets and our wits, 
And make the poor laugh. 

Susie, here's the Judge 
I met one summer in your native town." 

The little lady bright-haired and sweet faced 
Turned her blue eyes upon me, and we smiled 
In joyous recognition. Bella's friend, 
The gentle wood nymph of the Hampshire school 
Was now the Crcesus' daughter! 

Well-a-day! 
Her "schemes and plots " from Bella take their cue, 



126 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

And favor city children and sad youths 
Pining for knowledge, knowing not their lack, 
Thus she declared, and said, with tender eyes, 
" My Edward's heart is bent upon our plans — 
A heart far richer than my own deserves; 
And father here indulges us in all. 
I've found a father and a mother, sir, 
Long orphaned. Ought not I, of all the world, 
Divide my good with those who are deprived? " 

Yes, I will haste to Ben. 'Tis sweet to hope 
The morrow's eve will find us face to face, 
Ho! give me lights. 

And now my study beams 
With cheerful radiance. Soon my precious sons 
Will come to greet me. 

I will feast my eyes 
Till then, on this fair marble, their last gift, 
Victor's own work, expressing Benefit — 
Not Vengeance. 

'Tis well named " The Swimmer's Prize." 
A stalwart swimmer muscular and tall, 
With sea- drops trickling o'er his valiant brow, 



AFTER FIVE YEARS. 127 

Grasps with right hand a wave-dashed, storm-swept rock, 
With left uplifts a pale youth from the spray. 
The group is touched with colors. 

Victor dares 
Thus vivify his statues, choosing not 
To leave them death-like, because centuries 
Have robbed the Grecian relics of the hues 
They doubtless wore in all their wondrous prime. 

" What! tears, my father?" cries my eldest born, 

Whose step I heard not — "Yes, son, tears of joy. 

This work of Victor, how it melts my heart! 

You boys outwit me with your pranks and tricks. 

Last year that sketch by Bella startled me 

On yonder wall — 'The Smile of Heavenly Hope,' 

Where light on one plain face, at the low door 

Of a poor cabin seemed to cast a beam 

Of cheer along a lonely woodland path. 

Now, rogues, you pelt me with this sculptured stone! 

1 Tis well I can run far from you awhile. 

To Ben's protection. 

Ah! what friends! what peace! 
What children! an old pilgrim may enjoy." 



CANTO XII. 
FEEDING THE LAMBS. 

AT Ben's, his guest this score of happy days, 
Now can I watch the river of his life 
Broadening and brightening, as it flows to joint 
Th' eternal tides, greening the banks it laves. 
Next week we go with Bella to the town, 
Conducting her young flock, lambs, for Christ's sake 
Led here to frisk and feed in pastures green, 
Ere to their narrow lodgings in pent streets 
Returned for winter life. 

Still, in those homes 
Her care and Susan's will benignly watch 
And kindly guide them. From the Croesus' hoard 
By his loved son dispensed, and the wide purse 
Of generous Benjamin enriched, these two 
Will spread those wise expenditures that yield 
Return some sixty, some an hundred fold 
To all communities, where youthful feet 
Are led devoutly to their proper place 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 129 

With the world's husbandmen and builders — 

They who search out natural forces, and subdue 

All to men's service; or pass on earth's gifts 

Already furnished, to meet Need's quick grasp; 

Or those who, by long comtemplation, gain 

Brain potency to share with minds deprived. 

For this and like ends, for a sisterhood 

Hampered and sore distressed in city haunts, 

I'll join my favor and best aid to their's, 

Happy in age if I may claim a part 

In their glad counsels who plan human peace, 

And meditating on the law divine, 

Are found as trees by water-courses set, 

In leaf and fruit unfailing to the end. 

But is dear Isabella's fancy joined 

By fleeting motives to her present tasks ? 

Or spring her deeds from radical intends 

Conditioned on her spirit's life, that grows 

And blossoms into aims benevolent ? 

I met her in my rambles yesterday, 

And bade her sit some moments in the shade, 

As guardians may command. 

I challenged her 
To paint me her vocation in clear words, 
As in her contemplation it stands forth. 



130 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

"It is, dear counsellor," she kindly said, 
After a pause of revery, " to guard 
And tend the young will, as it first expands 
From Infancy's frail beauteous clay-rind, 
Praying God's added re-creative touch 
To wake to nobler life that understands 
Himself with growing energy of love, 
While aspirations, tendrils of the mind 
Are trained to climb above their primal rests. 
I long to tune young laughter to such keys 
As shall with Duty's utterance harmonize, 
In all the future's years. 

I'd teach young souls 
To feel a falsehood, by their sense of right, 
And by allegiance early bound to Heaven, 
Have no will left to worship or to serve 
Heart-idols." 

" You pursue a fond ideal, 
My child," I answered, sternly testing her, 
" Scarce guessing how the idol-cult prevails 
In lives most rich in outward benefits," 

"Lives may be rich in their due estimates 
Of benefits possessed, who yet seem poor 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 131 

Beside their neighbors, who are laden down 
With visible dower. 

Perhaps," she said, "those prize 
Most heartily the fountain's crystal depths, 
Who may but pause to snatch a precious draught, 
Lest night descend on their bewildered march; 
And those most gladly hail the sun, who catch 
Only a few rays, through dull attic panes 
Struggling mid clustering roofs. 

These might e'en guess 
The rapture of the Parsee, who adores 
Yon circling Light, whence each new day is born; 
Though others 'neath its. equatorial beams 
Ignore it, worshipping a fetish clod." 

"I see, wise Isabella, you transcend 

My hoary wisdom, with your woman's wit. 

And, doubtless, you will teach most wittily, 

Proving abstract ideas, with similes, 

Make younglings greet with joy their country's flag, 

Incipient patriots — through your bed-time tales, 

And by their marbles set forth equity." 

"Justice has simple rules," musing she spoke, 



1 32 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

"A child may grasp all with his guileless thoughts." 
"What! all?" I cried, 

"Yes, all," she said and turned 
On me her eyes lucent with inner light. 
"Straight lines are shortest between points, and right 
In its first principles, to normal view 
Is clear. Do not complexity and doubt 
Come from false precepts mingled with the true ? " 

"Yet, dreamer, only after length of days, 

Can your hoped harvests bless the hungry world. 

Gather, I pray you, the fresh early fruits 

That blush around you in your years of strength." 

"Fear not, my gentle Guardian," she replied, 

"That I shall fail of blessing, while I wait; 

The day is come, when, dearer than all joy 

That finds in self a centre, or affords 

A solace solely for these fleeting hours, 

I value Christ's permission — aye, command 

To take my woman's place among the bands, 

Who strive with zeal unwavering to uplift 

Our race into the glory of His smile. 

And yet I boast not to have lived exempt 
From idol-fascinations, that appeal 
To all in some fair guise. 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 

I shudder oft 
At soul-thralls witnessed round us, as one might, 
Who, having passed by night a fearful chasm 
In our Sierras, by a taper's ray 
Guided along its brink, returns at morn 
To gaze adown its mile of sheer descent, 
Quaking at horrors by a hair's breadth missed. 

Yet poets praise idolatory, men talk 
Of idol-seeking, as of Heaven-pursuit! 

I'll tell the questioning little ones such tales 

Of idol-mischief, point such triumphs won 

By moral valor, as shall warm young wills 

To hold all things material under tax 

For soul-promotion; nay — my words offend 

My meaning. I will bind with fervor true 

On holiest altars, in devotion glad, 

My purpose and my deeds; yet know the fire 

That fell on Carmel's stones, in Ahab's reign, 

Must fall, else all my offerings will be vain." 

"I praise you, child," I answered, "for your aims 

Against idolatry however masked. 

An idol lost, that still is loved and mourned, 



i33 



134 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

How in its place comes frantic suicide, 
Morose despair, or gloom insane to stand 
Beside the vacant throne! 

An idol raised 
Within a heart permits no purpose there 
To thwart its vain control, though it be guised 
As fond affection, or as angel fair. 
Be it your privilege, with instinct keen, 
By truthful revelations wisely chosen, 
To guide the soul's unfoldings, the new gleams 
Of curious reason to direct with awe 
To Purity's white temple, that clear eyes 
May see her perfect loveliness, and form 
Their standard by this view. 

Then, as soft feet 
Pass on to opening life-paths, satyrs bold 
Or sirens false can not hallucinate 
Conscience or reason; if but Reverence 
Of a pure Presence mindful of all thoughts 
And waiting for communion with all souls 
Be your ally." 

" O fount of tenderness 
Forbearing, kind — maternal love! of thee 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 135 

I drank in helpless years," my listener breathed 

Departing from my themes. "Thy sources deep 

In woman's nature rise, and from them spring 

Her pitying sympathy for all her race." 

"No, child," I cried, "permit my age to chide. 

Ascribe to thy mortality no wells 

Of sympathy perennial, which methinks 

Has elements divine. 

Great Milton sang — 
* Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve! ' 
And were I poet, thus would I express 
My praise of women who have blessed my life." 
She smiled. " But, Guardian, what unfathomed deeps 
Are in the human soul! " 

Responsive I 
Related how a murderer wild and fell — 
A prisoner half a century and more — 
Twice nine years chained, at four-score years grew mild 
Calling " Dear Mother! " as his death drew near; 
And how a youth's cry, in his dying hour 
Rang in his mother's ears — " Forsake me not! " 
She having failed to teach his hand to loose 
Its grasp on her frail palm, to reach instead 
The Hand whose touch gives immortality. 



136 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Alas! that Woman should presume so far 
As to retain the weight of a man's soul 
To her indulgence bound for anchorage, 
Where waves of an eternal sea may rise 
Upon Time's shallows. 

"'Yet 'tis true," she said, 
"That many a woman, e'en in this fair land, 
And countless more in realms beyond the seas, 
Are by exactors driven, by tyrants wronged, 
Tempted and starved because of cruel greed 
In pampered men of courteous mien, and state 
Respected and admired. 

Mothers who toil 
And pine in closets dank, for little ones 
Who have no foot of the green, plenteous earth 
To stretch their growing limbs on, in their play; 
And maidens frail, untrained, unguarded, pressed 
With early cares come to my dreams in sleep. 

A noble friend, who often threads dim streets 
In your proud city, seeking human gems 
Amid their slime, told me a woman once 
Holding a babe in arms, looked forth mid pools 
And sheds of refuse by dark tenements, 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 137 

And asked " Are you to get us a park here ? 

I wish to God you would! We need it most. " 

But much the friend is grieved because of those 

Who say, "We have not eaten aught to-day. 

Is there no work for us ? We would earn bread," 

Who have nor tutored minds, nor skillful hands 

For useful labors that befit our sex. 

She longs to gather maidens by the scores, 

Set them in classes before matrons wise, 

And teach them such plain arts as homes demand; 

The needle's use, the management of babes, 

Food preparation, thrift, and gentle care 

Of those who languish with disease or pain — 

And so give efficacy to their cry 

For well-earned recompense. 

Let me not crush 
In woman or in child the noble wish 
For worthy independence; but forestall instead 
The chance of helplessness. 

I am resolved 
To join my humble ministry to theirs 
Who unloose heavy burdens, and raise hands 
That droop." 



138 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

"Dear child," I cried, " He who came down 
As Burden-bearer to the race of men, 
Who quenches not the smoking flax, nor breaks 
The bruised reed — can point you to success, 
Nor is there help beside. 

Strive as we may. 
To heal sad hearts, and lift the languid hands, 
There will be those who turn away the ear, 
From His voice saying "Heavy-laden ones, 
Come unto Me and I will give you rest! " 
But send that word and follow as He leads. 
So shall you be Restorer of safe-paths, 
Making waste places smile; and souls that starved 
To sit at feasts transformed as royal sons, 
And daughters of the King." 

As thus we talked 
Sitting beside a sweet-brier hedge, a shout 
Of childish merriment resounded near. 

Peeping above our fragrant battlement, 
We saw the children trooping toward their bower,. 
Foremost was one called Allyn auburn-haired 
And rosy. 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 139 

Leaning- on a stick he trod 
Right measu redly, with roguish eyes down-cast. 
Beneath his left arm were a pamphlet large, 
And an old battered plaque. 

Beside him Ruth — 
A tiny round-eyed child, bore with grave look 
Her favorite toy — a mimic violin. 
A beard of white from flimsy paper cut 
Hid Allyn's dimpled chin, and my soft cap 
Perching in wrinkles on his curly pate 
Surprised our peering eyes. 

The tiny Ruth 
Feigned Isabella's stateliness of gait, 
Wearing on her brown head, a bit of gauze, 
Whose scarlet had adorned our tall brunette. 

They climbed unsmiling on two rustic chairs, 
And spoke in borrowed tones of "this young flock," 
While peals of mirth and antics full of grace 
Attested approbation from their mates. 
Then Allyn rising placed the pamphlet large 
Against a shrub, and made the broken plaque 
Rest o'er it, as an artist's canvass might 
Depend upon an easel. 



i 4 o BEN'S ISABELLA. 

"Children, hark!" 
He cried, and waved his hand till silence reigned — 
" Your Garden Teacher will make melodies 
And sing a 'kinder'-song. 

You must keep still, 
And those who listen best shall first stand near 
And look at the fine pictures she has made." 

Then Ruth's small fingers smote on the toy-strings, 
And her sweet voice of silver piped a lay. 

RUTH'S KINDER-GARTEN SONG. 

If you would make the corn grow, 

You have to plant the seeds; 
Soon you must hoe 
By every row, 

Or else there will be weeds: 

And the sun must shine, the rain must fall, 

Or you will get no corn at all. 

You must not chase the mother-hen, 

But give her drink and food, 
And leave her then 
Safe in her pen, 

To raise her pretty brood. 

She'll shortly teach them what to do, 

And be a better nurse than you. 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 141 

Our hands can only do their share 
Of all that must be done, 

But if we bear 

Our part with care, 

Others will help us on, 

And God will send the sun and* rain, 

For growing children, birds, and grain. 

" Ho 1 Ben, my boy," called Allyn in deep tone, 
Turning abruptly; as a seven year lad 
Wrapped in the folds of the Inventor's coat, 
And trailing it upon the grass, drew near, 
Ben's hat in hand, low bowing to the troop, 
And answering with assumed authority: 
"Come, Isabella, Tom, and little ones ! 
Let's have a game or two upon the lawn, 
Till supper-time." 

Here laughter rippling flowed 
Dissolving his droll soberness to fun. 
Sweet Ruth sincere e'en in her play, looked on, 
While Allyn and the seven year lad enrobed 
Or tangled in Ben's luckless summer coat, 
Joined with their mates in gambols. 

Suddenly 
Dashed the maid Phyllis down npon their ranks, 
Like raven mid young dovelets — " O you rogues ! " 



1 42 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Panting she cried, " Give back the master's coat, 
And Judge's cap ! Give back Miss Bella's sash — 
Or Mammy'll make no muffins for your tea." 

She should have hidden her white teeth with her lips, 
And borrowed sternness — but forgot to chide, 
And joined her laughter to the general mirth, 
Holding her sides and shouting — " O you rogues ! " 
And driving homeward all the little romps. 

Then we who had been peering o'er the hedge, 
Took our own turn at laughing. 

"What think you, 

guardian Knight ! of Comedy and Farce, 
Or e'en of Melody to Action joined ? 

As native to our species ? " Bella asked, 
"Action may serve Truth well; but let not Truth 
Transfer her scepter to the servant's hand," 

1 answered. "Whatsoe'er upbuilds the mind, 
And qualifies our being for high deeds 

Is worthy; though in this there are degrees 
Of worth, and he who takes by choice the less, 
While greater is before him, is not wise. 
As for mere feigning, as a life-employ, 
To aid one's fellows to forgetfulness, 
And dissipation of their fairest wealth — 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 143 

The priceless hours — methinks it must re-act 
Upon the feigner making- him play false 
With conscience, duty, and all serious things. 
A mask wins not confiding sympathy, 
That so enriches the life-pilgrimage." 
■" All young things imitate, and thus afford 
A mirror to their elders," Bella said. 

'The mimicry of children," I rejoined, 
*' Renews our youthful fancies, and makes 
Gay our thought; while oft its exercise 
Educes and makes strong their faculties. 
*Tis not performance, artifice, or trick; 
But nature's method. 

Still it follows not 
That mimicry should rob from Earnestness 
The foreman's office in Life's busy shop, 
Where men and women must do careful work, 
Or harm uncounted interests. 

A whim 
Caught by an imitative baby boy 
From a weak mother, like a single mote 
In a bright eye, may trouble his soul's sight 



i 4 4 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

When he shall stand with statesmen and make laws. 
Till he shall veer back on the dial-plate 
His country's sign; or make a man of lore 
Lose step with all the progress of the age." 

"Yes, Knight, and she who trains the little hands 
That when grown strong shall engine-levers move; 
Or e'en those fingers that shall soon forge wheels 
On which ride travellers daily, may make lives 
Secure, through her example of good work, 
Of faithfulness and patience in small things, 
Set before youthful eyes." 

" You speak a word 
Of wondrous sense — example. 

Thence I draw 
A present lesson. Your old knight perceives 
He strides too stiltedly for yonder lads 
To keep their twinkling feet in step with his. 
He'll try to dream himself a boy again, 
As Ben your father needs not, being still 
Boy-like, thus knowing a child's heart. 

He's wise 
To graduate his reasoning to young brains." 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. 145 

We walked now by the roadside toward the lawn, 

Whither the children had run frolicking 

With Phyllis at their heels, to sport as wont 

With the Inventor, ere their supper-call. 

A creaking wagon lumbering toward his house 

Here overtook us wending thither, too. 

It bore a laundry-dame, with baskets wide 

Teeming with children's garments, seeing which, 

Our Bella hastened through a by-path home, 

To summon nurses to bestow the robes 

As needful for their charges. 

At my bow, 
The laundry-woman pleased grew talkative. 
Checking her nag, with curious looks, she spoke: 
"You are Miss Bella's uncle, I've no doubt? " 

"A friend, good Madam." 

"Well, she's a nice girl, 
Mister. 

I've known her these ten years or more, 
And found her kind. I'm sorry she's alone 
On this great farm." 



146 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

"She has her father, Ma'am." 

" But she's no husband," here she whipped a fly 
From her horse's flank, as he jogged at my gait — 
"It's a great shame." 

She sighed and shook her head 
Sun-browned, with ribbons red strained on the breeze. 

"You're married, doubtless, Madam, and have proved 
A husband's worth, through blest companionship ? " 
"I, married?" she returned with glance surprised, 
" O yes. My husband has the rheumatiz 
This seventeen year. 

He gets out in the sun 
On pleasant days. We're trying some new herbs. 
1 Children ? ' Yes, I have eight. My oldest girl 
Married a drinking man; so she's come home 
With two fine babies. My next girl is lame, 
But good as any minister or saint. 
Jimmy ran off to sea. I lie awake 
When the wind roars at night, afraid he'll drown. 
If it was not for my eldest girls that stay 
At home, and the two babies, when the five 
Go off to school, I should be lonesomer 
Than any owl — without 'twas for my work. 



FEEDING THE LAMBS. i 47 

You see I have to scrub, and wash, and mend, 
From morning candle-light, till long past dark. 
I tell you, Mister, such a family 
With a sick husband, keep my hands afly; 
But then, my cares are nothing to what some 
Bend under — 

Here we are ! and here she comes. 
A nice girl." In a whisper — "What a shame 
She has no husband ! 

Thank you, kindly, Sir, 
For helping me across this wheel. I weigh 
More than I used to, when I jumped a fence 
As nimbly as a ribbit. 

Thank you, Sir." 



'Tis evening. Isabella's voice was heard 
A half hour since, above us, murmuring 
A lullaby to her loved lambs. 

Then all was still. 
But now her feet draw nigh upon the stairs, 
And now beyond a drapery that hides 
Her father's presence and my own from hers, 
She charms our twilight silence with a song. 



i 4 8 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

ISABELLA'S HEART-SONG. 

My heart's a fountain springing, 

Singing, upward flinging 
Joyfully its spray; 

How have earth-storms quelled and shadowed it in scorn- 
ful fray ! 

But the tempest only swelled the sources 
Of its earnest happy forces, 
Till they hasted more triumphantly along their way. 

As storm-clouds overflowing 

Leave more glowing 
Growing plants and flowers, 

While the river chants fresh anthems in its woodland 
bowers; 

So thy purposes, my heart ! are purer 

For thy pain, thy hopes are surer. 
Life ! thy nobler victories crown thy conflict laden hours. 



CANTO XIII. 
A FAIR VISION. A CLOUD-BURST. FIDELITY. 

'' I MS autumn late. My home-life is resumed 
-*- In the great city; whither Ben has come 
With Isabella to their winter lodge 
Nearby my door. 

Not far off Susan dwells 
In Crcesus' mansion with her Edward fond, 
And my loved sons are close at hand. 

Of late 
At Crcesus' bidding, we have often met 
Within his stately dwelling, to resolve 
And plan for the accomplishment of hopes 
Toward bettering the dismal ward, where live 
Bella's babe-pupils. 

Edward wills to rear 
At willing Crcesus' charges, three strong blocks 
Inclosing pleasant courts in outer air, 
Where youths may sport, and weary elders rest, 



i 5 o BEN'S ISABELLA. 

While roofs shall give broad views and promenades. 

Within shall rooms be modelled for home-life 

In fair conditions, and there shall be halls 

For worship, lectures, books, and pastimes pure, 

With class-rooms for child learners, and for boys 

Trade shops, where skillful masters shall instruct 

The hand untrained. 

Mothers and maidens, too, 
May find provision to become expert 
In fitting lore, and all the arts of home. 

Not without woman's counsel, we devise, 
Dreading the dreariness and waste of schemes 
Wherein her quick perception has no part — 
But draw forth Susan's wit, and Bella's care 
For deft arrangements suited to all aims; 
While Crcesus' wife suggests economies 
Of space, and my sons' partners fair 
Suggest best contiguities, and hint 
Fit furnishings. 

Victor once so disdained 
By Crcesus, has won favor in his eyes, 
And came to our last conclave, at my call, 
To lend artistic insight to our thought. 



A FAIR VISION. 151 

All's well, and we to-morrow shall give forth 
Our full requirements to an architect 
Apt to fulfil or wisely modify 
Our joint design. 

But see, upon the street, 
There's tumult — I'll look forth. 

Hark ! sudden cries — 
" Stop the assassin ! " " Seize the murderer ! " 
" Beware the bomb ! " — and what fierce notes are these: 
" Down with the rich ! " " Let Capital beware ! " 
Ah ! now swift messengers press to my side 
Stammering, l ' Croesus by a villain's hand 
Is dead within his home, his wounded son 
Lies fainting there beside him. Go not forth, 
There's rage against your children and yourself. 
You have been tracked by anarchs envious, 
Who say you're plotting foul monopolies, 
To drain the life-blood of the trampled poor." 

Alas ! 'tis true still, as in ancient days, 

That Jealousy is cruel as the grave. 

Slain friend ! who learned, though late, to serve mankind, 

Who yearned to uplift the ignorant and give 

The guilty time and privilege to change — 

I mourn, thee, brother ! 



1 5 2 BEN' S ISABELLA. 

Patience dwelt in thee 
For the fierce poor. The laborer's lot was thine 
Through years of thrift; yet thou hadst hope to make 
The improvident wiser, better, happier. 
Must such as thou unflinchingly endure 
Thy neighbor's hate, waiting for his proud soul 
To learn obedience to God's will, and grow 
Forbearing; while he heeds not thy heart's pain. 
And scorns to wait for thy soul to unfold 
In knowledge and fraternal kindliness ? 
Fair vision of Philanthropy ! that rose 
Before our earnest souls — those happy halls 
Whence children of the needy should go forth 
Redeemed from want, equipped for life's career — 
Must thou dissolve, while we, who mourn the dead 
Lose heart and shrivel to indifference ? 
Such questionings oppressed my sinking heart 
Beneath my study's evening rays, when Ben — 
With thoughtful Victor, silent at his side — 
Came striding in with firm and bouyant step, 
Beaming on me the luster of an eye 
Undimmed by disappointment. 

" Tom ! dear boy," 
He said with mellowed voice, " 'tis bad, but worse 
Might have befallen us, for Edward lives. 



A FAIR VISIOA. 153 

Our Bella is with Susan, and reports 

His wound may heal in time. This mercy helps 

His mother and young wife- Victor's strong soul 

Is ours in fellowship: his energies 

Are roused and chafe for noblest exercise. 

Then hand in hand we sat, and long I spoke 

Of the departed; of his kindling hopes 

Cruelly quenched; of my despairings dark 

Succeeding brightest dreams of helpfulness 

Toward those whose fury, like a whirling flood, 

Strands now our fair ambitions." 



" Hold ! " cried Ben, 
"Thou'rt small of strength, if in adversity 
Thou faintest. We must flag not in our zest 
To serve our generation by God's will. 
There's promise for our race. We must press on 
To conquest. 'Tis not ours to choose a course 
Across the wilderness. There'll be a cloud 
For that by day, by night a fiery sign. 
He who conducts the march, judges the poor, 
And for the meek argues with equity. 
Until in all the earth justice is crowned, 
Christ fails not, nor lacks courage. Righteousness 
Girdles His loins, and faithfulness His heart. 



i 5 4 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

May be God wills not that we few shall wield 

Wealth's sceptre freely. In monopolies, 

E'en for philanthropy, dangers of pride 

Or power may lurk. We have time thrust on us 

For prudence, as for patience; not for waste. 

Let us watch well our course, and weigh all means 

In balances of righteousness, beware 

Lest one dishonest method, or one wedge 

Of gain held through oppression falsely wear 

The sign of mercy. 

We must bear scorn well, 
Win reasoning minds, use present aids, and look 
For helpers from the common ranks of men. 
Good will is more than riches, thought than things, 
Teachers are above school-rooms, and the ends 
We seek must come through faithful ministries. 

I have a picture in my spirit's eye, 

That cheers me. I will paint for you in words 

A vision of Fidelity, convinced, 

Your insight shall discern what my faint rhythm 

Can but suggest — what valorous holy strength 

What glorious ardor in the subject dwells, 

Whereby our hearts should quicken and be strong: 



A FAIR VISION. 1 55 

" With the tread of a warrior Fidelity goes 

Clad in armor of mail, 

His resolved brow is pale, 
He has firmly set lips, and there glows 

In his eye softly bright 

Love's unquenchable light. 

"A thousand keen archers have shot at his form, 

But his bow still is strong; 
He has warred in fierce battles, faced many a storm, 

And he bears scarce one treasure along-. 
But a strong unseen Angel behind him; I'm weening, 
A burden of trophies is steadily gleaning 

From numberless fields: — 

There are Israel's marred shields, 
There's a branch from Moriah's lone wood, 
Where with Abram Fidelity stood 

By the dearly loved lad; 

There are mantles the old prophets had, 
Joseph's robe, Moses' rod, Daniel's necklace of gold, 

David's harp, the sweet balm Mary brought, 

With a tent-cloth by Paul's fingers wrought, 
And goods of the martyrs of old. 

There are patriot-swords blood-encrusted, 
Robes fond, patient women have made, 



1 56 BEN'S ISABELLA. 

Gold once to the needy entrusted, 
And all with due increase repaid, 

Worn implements guided by hands scorched and failing, 
Thus made for the rescue of many availing, 
And flowers young disciples who 'dared to be true, 
Have strewn in Christ's path, where the blossoms were 
few. 

"With the tread of a warrior Fidelity goes, 

And I mark where his iron-shod feet 
Have tracked the broad desert the bright springing rose 

Makes all that drear wilderness sweet. 
He shuns the gay dwellings of ease, and I know 
For the joy set before him, to death would he go. 
He passes in shade; but afar I behold 
His tall helmet gleam in the splendor of gold. 

" How stately the vision ! I long to pursue, 

While the diligent Angel who garners the spoils 
From out the wide fields where Fidelity toils, 

Turns whispering, 'What may I gather from you ! ' " 

Ben ceased, and after pause spoke Victor, "Thanks 
For this portrayal. 

Would my hand could carve 
This warrior-image from the lasting rock ! 



A FAIR VISIOA. 157 

But more I long to set it forth in life, 

With steady action and a constant will, 

Mid scorn or favor, as all souls have done 

Who have wrought progress, or o'er mastered wrong " 

"Amen ! " we elders said, deeming his words 

Prophetic of exploits sublime. 

Anew 
Our courage rose to be of those who dare 
Embrace the promise whose fulfilment waits 
Afar, who guage the near and tangible 
By the unseen eternal, and endure 
As seeing Him who is invisible. 

THE END. 



...yjRAJjY OF CONGRESS 

018 604 152 5 



